


You Can Run

by Alice_h



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abusive Double Trouble, Abusive Relationships, Adora just sees her as a good friend, But she does get to beat people up, Catra has issues, Catra is obsessed with Adora, Double Trouble is a bastard, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Fugitives, Heavy Angst, I'm earning this explicit rating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Murder, Self-Harm, Stabbing, There is a bit of sex later, be gay do crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_h/pseuds/Alice_h
Summary: I just killed Shadow Weaver.Oh s**t! I just killed Shadow Weaver.After Catra fights back against years of abuse, the Fright Zone is no longer safe for her and Adora. Stealing a skiff, they flee for their lives, unsure of what awaits them outside the boundaries of the place they have always called home.When they meet Double Trouble, Catra and Adora are offered a lifeline - they get a home in exchange for doing a few small jobs. With a vulnerable Catra finally receiving praise for her work, things begin to look up, but as her guilt builds, it soon becomes clear that the shapeshifter has only their own interests in mind.Can Catra truly escape her past and live with what she's done? Or is she doomed to be taken advantage of again by another abusive authority figure?
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Catra/Double Trouble (She-Ra)
Comments: 183
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh, I am so excited about this, and I hope you all enjoy it. Those of you who liked the A Place of Our Own series may find this a real shift in tone - it's darker, longer and more explicit, but hopefully you'll like this one too.
> 
> I do have this flagged as containing graphic violence and major character death, but I'll add additional warnings in the notes as and when necessary. For the first chapter, you may have already guessed, but there is a murder taking place.
> 
> (Note - this was previously titled "Living With It", I renamed it to avoid confusion with "Live With It" by Johannas_motivational_insults. Clever me had a vague recollection of a similar title, but searched for "living" and found nothing, so I though "great! I'll use that!", completely forgetting that "live" is also a word. It was entirely unintentional, my apologies)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW - if you're just here for the smut, chapter 5. I won't tell anyone.

“Hey, Shadow Weaver,” Catra put her face inches from the pale grey ear of her guardian and whispered her name to wake the woman. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through every part of her body – emanating from her very core, in her heart and stomach, and spreading to each extremity. It made everything seem a little unreal and distant; her feet were planted on the floor, but she couldn’t feel the connection to the ground. The room was cold, but no part of her felt a chill. Nor did the object in her hand seem real. Maybe she wasn’t actually here, maybe this was all a dream. Maybe it was someone else holding the knife.

She wanted Shadow Weaver to be awake for this next part. It was vital that the evil old woman didn’t miss a single second of what she was about to do. She wanted her to feel every last bit of pain. Catra needed to see the look in her eyes as she realised what was happening, the same way the woman used to take pleasure in looking into hers while she was in pain from whatever the witch’s favourite method of hurting her was at the time. But that was never going to happen again – this was finally going to be her time with the upper hand, her victory, _her revenge._ At last, Shadow Weaver would get what was coming to her, and she felt almost honoured to be the one to act on karma’s behalf.

Why Catra had put up with her abuse for so long, she couldn’t explain. Nor could she identify what about the afternoon had been the tipping point for her. There was nothing out of the ordinary – her squad had spectacularly failed their training drill when Lonnie mistimed a jump and accidentally knocked Catra and Kyle over. All three had fallen into a trap and eliminated themselves. As usual, Shadow Weaver had singled out only Catra for punishment and dragged her into the Black Garnet chamber. She’d thrown her to the floor, yelling about how useless and worthless she was, just like she always did. Even finding herself choked to the point of nearly blacking out by Shadow Weaver’s magic was a regular occurrence that had never driven her to this before. Whatever it was that had snapped inside her and taken her to the point of making the decision to kill the woman who was the closest thing to a mother she’d ever known, she’d found carrying it out much easier than she thought it to be. After the evening meal, Catra had quietly slipped into the kitchen to take a knife – as it turned out, she didn’t need to be anywhere near as stealthy as she had been, that entire section of the Fright Zone was deserted after hours. Hiding it under her shirt (and being terrified the whole way back that she might accidentally stab herself from doing so), she returned to the dorm, secreting the blade underneath her pillow when no-one was looking. After that, all she needed to do was wait.

When the lights went out in their room, Catra remained wide awake, letting the time pass by imagining what she was about to do. Over and over she envisaged herself standing over Shadow Weaver’s bed, the old woman’s eyes pleading with her as she plunged the knife into her chest. Her last words being used to Catra she was sorry for everything she’d done to her, and then how her final seconds alive would be filled with the Catra telling the woman that she didn’t and would never forgive her.

Once she had been reasonably sure the rest of the room was asleep, Catra left her bed, carefully checking the other cadets were fully unconscious before she removed the knife from under her pillow. Though she didn’t know the time, it must have been well past midnight, as the corridors of the Fright Zone she walked along were completely empty. She couldn’t wait to get into Shadow Weaver’s bedroom, but she had to force herself to move slowly so as to avoid making noise that might alert any light sleepers. Although she’d never been inside before, she knew precisely where to go. The bedroom was next door to the Black Garnet chamber, a necessary concession for the woman to be able to leech power from the runestone in the mornings so she had the energy to get through the day.

Now Catra was stood here in that very room, looking down upon the face of the woman who had ruined her childhood and made her life a living hell. Shadow Weaver’s eyes opened slowly, and she was startled to see Catra’s so close to her own.

“What on Etheria are you doing, you rude little girl?” despite being semi-conscious, the old woman’s vitriol when it came to telling Catra off was just as evident as ever, “Get out!”

“Not happening.”

“How dare you speak to me like that! You are _never_ allowed in here, Catra. Tomorrow morning, I will be reporting this flagrant disregard for the rules and my privacy straight to Lord Hordak himself. I shall let him deal with you.”

“No you won’t,” Catra said firmly. She took a deep breath to steady herself and with the slightest of movements, thrust the knife deep into Shadow Weaver’s abdomen. The woman’s eyes flared in shock, and she sharply inhaled as she began to feel a pain spreading through her body. Catra removed the knife and stared at the blade, now glistening with blood. It told her that she’d now passed the point of no return – that really was Shadow Weaver’s blood dripping down onto her forearm. All the times she had wished that this horrible woman would simply disappear; the one who used her as a punching bag, the one who constantly told her she wasn’t wanted. Catra had dreamed of the day she no longer had to put up with her mistreatment. And now that day had arrived.

“You really are pathetic…” Shadow Weaver wheezed, futilely gasping for a breath that would dull the pain, “You don’t… have a chance… of getting away with this… Stupid child…”

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. The woman should be begging for her life, apologising for the years of abuse, pleading for Catra’s forgiveness. Not using the last minutes of her life to belittle her even more. It wasn’t fair – didn’t she even have a tiny amount of regret in her? Not one iota of remorse for years of treating her as a punchbag? The frustration came to the surface again, boiling over into a renewed rage. Catra clutched the knife in a fist and thumped it down again, over and over in a frenzy that she didn’t feel completely in control of.

 _Every time you told me I was useless._ Blood spread across the bedclothes with every new wound Catra was making, seeping through the shreds she had made of the sheet.

 _Every time you punished me in the place of others._ She could hear the tiny gasps of pain leaving Shadow Weaver’s mouth each time the knife went in. It was almost satisfying her to hear the agony that the woman was in, that finally she knew what it was like to be on the receiving end.

 _Every time you hurt me._ It was a cathartic experience. This was revenge for _everything_ Shadow Weaver had put her through, and it was a long time coming.

“Ungrateful… waste of space...”

Catra could take no more. Even in death, Shadow Weaver continued to put her down without any contrition for all she’d put her through. Though she had wanted the woman’s ending to be slow and painful, she came to the realisation that this would now just mean another few minutes of weakly-voiced verbal abuse. It had to end now. Shadow Weaver’s life had to end now. Raising the knife again, she stared deep into the witch’s eyes and plunged the blade into her neck. Blood sprayed in all directions as her attack found an artery, covering both the bed and Catra in bright red. The barbed words, the hateful comments, the abusive put downs were stopping for good. Nothing more would ever leave Shadow Weaver’s mouth other than a deep gurgling throughout the minuscule amount of time that remained for her. Those seconds felt like an age to Catra, but soon the old woman’s body became limp and her head fell back against the pillow, her life finally taken away by her own ward.

_I just killed Shadow Weaver._

_Oh shit! I just killed Shadow Weaver._

Catra stared at the scene in front of her. The determination and certainty she’d had moments ago had melted away, replaced by panic and regret. The moment the body was found, there would be an immediate hunt for the killer, and it would lead them straight to her. Everyone knew Shadow Weaver hated her, and it was common knowledge that the feeling was mutual. Catra didn’t know how to cover up a murder like that – there was blood all over her, her fingerprints on the knife, she would be caught immediately and then there was only one punishment that would be dealt out. She’d be executed while her friends were forced to watch.

Her friends. Adora. Adora would know what to do – she always did. Her mind now focused on finding her best friend, Catra ran out of the room, tearing down the corridors without giving a thought to the noise it would make. All she wanted was to get to Adora as quickly as she could, and she hurried through the spartan passageways of the place she called home, sliding around corners and even dropping onto all fours for speed. The dim lighting of the Fright Zone mixing with her anxious state conspired against her as she found herself taking several wrong turns, but she eventually located her way back to the dorm. She sprinted straight to Adora’s bed, roughly shaking the girl’s shoulder and whispering her name.

Adora stirred, lightly grunting on her abrupt return to consciousness. Her eyes opened slightly as she rubbed them, “Catra? What’s…?”

“Wake up, Adora. I’ve done something bad. Really bad. Just… just come to the bathroom.”

Grumbling to herself, Adora peeled her blanket off and reluctantly took to her feet. Though she was fond of the girl, Catra had a penchant for being somewhat overdramatic at times – she just wished that two in the morning wasn’t one of those times. The room was almost pitch black as Adora tiptoed her way towards the door which her friend had now disappeared behind; she had made the short journey across to the bathroom many times in the dead of night, so she knew where the obstacles were and how to avoid the loose panels in the floor that made a loud noise when you stepped on them. She just wished that whatever Catra had done could have waited until the morning.

The light in the bathroom was on when she pushed the door open, Catra swiftly closing and locking it behind her the second she had cleared the threshold. It took ten seconds or so for Adora’s eyes to adjust to the sudden change in brightness, but when she was finally able to see the girl in front of her, she gasped. Blood coated Catra’s hands, her sleeves, her top – there were even a few red smudges across her face. But it was the blood-covered knife that was gripped in her trembling hand that worried her even more.

“Catra? What... what have you done? Where did all this blood come from? Are you hurt? Is someone else hurt?” Adora’s panic manifested in the rapid fire of questions. Awful scenarios flooded her mind as to why her friend was in the state she was, but she remembered the girl’s first words – ‘I’ve done something bad’. Surely she wouldn’t have…

The brunette stared at the blade she was holding, barely able to comprehend what she had done. Her recollection of the murder was hazy, like a film she had seen years ago and could only remember a few scenes from. She spoke quietly, “Shadow Weaver’s dead. I killed her.”

“What do you mean you killed her?”

“This blood is from her,” Catra raised the knife up, making a worried Adora start back. She didn’t think Catra would hurt her, but then again she didn’t think the girl would kill Shadow Weaver, “I don’t know what to do...help me, Adora.”

Sensing her friend’s panic raised a similar level of anxiety in Adora, not least at the realisation that she was now implicated as well. There was only one course of action if she wanted to truly help her – she had to cover up Catra’s involvement and ensure that Shadow Weaver’s death could not be linked back to either of them. She paced around the bathroom, running through a plan in her mind. The first thing had to be getting rid of the knife, it was covered in blood and Catra’s fingerprints and would expose her guilt almost immediately were anyone to find it.

“The foundry.”

Catra squinted, confused at what appeared to be a random word, “What?”

“The knife. Your clothes. Go the foundry and throw them into the furnace, then come back, wash yourself off thoroughly and go to sleep.”

“What, I’m just supposed to walk back naked?”

Her protests sparked a little anger in Adora. She was putting herself on the line to help her friend, and was getting complaints in response, far from the gratitude she might have reasonably expected, “Fine! I’ll go get you a change of clothes, _then_ you can go get rid of them.”

Breathing deeply to quell the spike of irritation, Adora made for the door, unlocking it and pushing it ajar, just enough to see into the main sleeping area. Happy that no-one was waiting outside, she swiftly slipped through and closed it behind her, leaving Catra alone inside. She headed straight for the drawers next to the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible while she pulled out some clean clothes for the girl.

“Adora?” Lonnie yawned from the bed next to her, making her jump, “What are you doing up?”

“Nothing, just go back to sleep.”

The girl raised her head up, getting a better look at what Adora was doing. Curiosity made her more alert, and something didn’t seem quite right to her, “Why are you holding Catra’s clothes? And where is she?”

“I, uh...” Adora had to think fast, but she regretted her answer almost as soon as she’d given it, “Fine, don’t say anything. Catra, uh, she wet the bed. I’m just helping her sort it out.”

“What?! She’s 19 years old and she still pisses the bed? Damn, Adora!”

The blonde nodded, having no option but to commit to her lie, “You can’t say anything about this, please. No matter what.”

“Alright, I won’t,” Lonnie laid herself back down on the bed, the call of sleep beckoning her to return, “But it is fucking hilarious. Have fun cleaning up her pee, then. Night.”

“Yeah, night Lonnie.”

Adora paused for a few moments, waiting for her fellow cadet to return to sleep, then dashed back to the bathroom, where Catra was now sat on the floor staring at the knife. Images of what she had done flashed through her mind, torturing her with the growing regret that accompanied them.

“Get changed,” ordered Adora, throwing the clothes at her. Normally she wouldn’t be so harsh to the girl, but if she was going to save Catra, she needed to do exactly as Adora told her.

Catra remained unmoving, “What’s the point? I can’t possibly have thought I’d get away with it – Hordak is going to find out and he’ll kill me. I’m dead, Adora.”

“I’m not going to let that happen to you. I promise, I _will_ put this right,” it had almost become a duty to Adora now. She took hold of her friend’s hand and looked her in the eye, “I look out for you, remember? This is me looking out for you. Just do what I say, and it’ll be OK.”

* * *

The atmosphere in Horde canteen the following morning was just as it was on any other day. The background hubbub of a couple of hundred cadets chatting away to each other mixed with the low hum that seemed to pervade every corner of the Fright Zone, which no-one could quite work out the origin of. As with every other aspect of the complex, the canteen was a spartan area, created with one purpose and fulfilling only that purpose – the tables were flat slabs of unpainted metal, the lighting harsh, and the walls bare save for the odd pipe or duct. Even so, it was a rather more permissive aspect of the life of a cadet; rules about noise and talking were slightly relaxed, and it had become something of a social area for the soldiers.

By the time Adora and Catra arrived that morning, the rest of their squad were already halfway through the bowls of gruel that passed as breakfast. As Adora approached, not wanting to arouse any suspicion, she faked a confidence that Catra found herself entirely unable to match. No part of her, however much she could act, felt confident, and she was almost hiding behind the blonde girl when they reached the table.

“Morning Adora!” Lonnie appeared to be unusually cheerful, “And good morning to you too Catra, I hope you slept well, and your spirits aren’t _damp_ ened.”

The odd turn of phrase distracted Catra from thinking about what she’d done, but it was only a momentary relief. It took only seconds for the image of Shadow Weaver’s lifeless, blood-drenched body lying in her bed to return to her mind. She felt sick, and had it not been for Adora’s light grip on her arm providing a minimal level of reassurance, she would likely have started running off to the toilet to throw up. Facing people who didn’t know what she’d done and going about her life like it was a normal day felt like an insurmountable task.

“The porridge tastes good today even if it’s a little too _wet_ for my liking. Although I guess that’s no _accident,_ is it Catra?”

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?” Kyle squinted at her, having noticed the unusual lack of confidence the girl had this morning. Most days, Catra would have thrown food at him or insulted him by now, so seeing her so silent and withdrawn was concerning, “You seem quiet. Are you feeling well?”

“I, uh…”

She was cut off by a loud buzzer echoing throughout the room that made her jump, but at least provided a small amount of relief by taking the attention away from her. The force captains who were supervising silenced the group and directed their attention to the television screens that had been mounted to the walls. There, beamed live onto each display, was the face of Lord Hordak, the man who ruled over them all. Intimidating as he was at the best of times, his expression this time seemed to project a deeper rage than most of the cadets had seen before, the atmosphere of the room changing immediately from it.

His deep voice reverberated off the walls, thickening the air with menace, “It is with great displeasure that I must inform you that there is a traitor amongst us. Earlier this morning, Shadow Weaver was found murdered in her bed. Let it be known that I WILL NOT tolerate treachery on this scale. I have been assured that the person responsible will be brought to me by the end of the day, and the punishment I shall inflict on them will act as a warning to all those who dare to challenge me. I will not be made to look a fool like this! Anyone who crosses Lord Hordak will be disposed of with extreme prejudice.”

The video abruptly cut off, sending the room into an uproar that even the barked orders of their superiors could not quell. All the cadets knew about Shadow Weaver – from those who had been mentored by her, to those who had heard the stories, to the majority who’d never talked to her but still found her creepy – and now someone had murdered the woman. Their initial reactions of shock quickly gave way to wild accusations of who had done it, and fantastical imaginations of how they’d killed her. Catra was sure she heard her name from across the room; through the uproar, someone was definitely talking about her. Somebody already knew what she’d done, and she knew it wouldn’t then be long before they told one of the force captains, who’d tell Hordak, who would come after her. She was going to die. Today. Panicking, she scraped her chair back along the floor to give herself room to get up, then tore out of the canteen.

“Catra, wait!” Adora called after her, but she was already out of earshot. She excused herself, feeling the need to justify the girl’s actions as the product of shock before she departed, and chased after her friend, the rest of her squad looking bewilderedly at the vacant space she had left behind. Catra was a fast runner, but Adora managed to catch a glimpse of her at the end of the corridor that helped her stay on the trail. Eventually she caught up, forcefully wrenching the brunette into a small side cupboard and pushing her against the wall.

“What are you doing? You’re going to give yourself away!”

Catra tried to respond, but she couldn’t catch her breath. It felt like she was suffocating; in a twist of irony, it brought to mind how Shadow Weaver’s magic used to press down on her throat and close her airway. She kept gasping, but each time she inhaled it felt completely inadequate, her unfilled lungs imploring her to try again, to breathe deeper and faster.

“Alright, calm down, you’re going to be fine,” Adora’s tone became much more compassionate as she noticed the overanxious state of the girl hyperventilating in front of her. She stroked her hand down one of Catra’s arms to try and reassure her, “Just breathe, okay? Breathe in. You’ll be fine. Come back to the canteen and carry on like nothing is wrong, alright?”

Catra gave a tiny nod. She was far from sure that she’d be able to ‘carry on like nothing is wrong’, but a big part of her knew that Adora was right; running out had already made her look guilty and she needed to try and shake that image from herself. Trembling as she exited the closet, she had to lean on Adora for stability on the walk down the corridor back towards the noise from the excitable mass of cadets. They had barely made any progress when the sound of rapid footsteps echoed off the walls, striking a fear deeply into them that only abated slightly when Lonnie came into view around a corner.

“What the fuck is going on?” Lonnie hissed, trying to hush her voice as she rushed towards them, “Tell me you didn’t...”

With Catra still panting behind her, Adora took the lead in explaining, “OK, yes. Catra was the one who killed her-”

“Shit, Adora!”

“But can you blame her? The things Catra was put through by Shadow Weaver, she… she’s the victim here!”

They were silenced by the sound of Catra’s name being yelled angrily. It wasn’t the usual tone of voice she’d gotten used to being shouted at in, the sort of irritated resignation that the training officers felt towards her when she half-assed another session. This was something far worse. It was the yell of someone who had worked out what she had done.

Lonnie had to think quickly. There were, at best, 30 seconds before the chasing officers reached this part of the hallway and they wouldn’t listen to any pleas from Catra before marching her off to Hordak’s throne room for summary execution. As a proud member of the Horde, she had a responsibility to carry out the orders of her superiors. But these were her friends – Adora, at least; Catra she barely tolerated, but they were squad mates despite everything – and, though far from sure she’d made the right decision, she ran her hand across her face and took a deep breath, “OK, I’ll cover for you, but you two need to _run –_ right now. Take a skiff and get as far from the Fright Zone as possible. Don’t _ever_ look back.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much, I won’t forget this,” Adora grasped hold of Catra’s arm and ran off towards the skiff bay, almost dragging the younger girl across the floor in her hurry.

Watching them disappear around a bend in the corridor, Lonnie whispered a final goodbye, “Good luck.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra and Adora are now on the run - can they find sanctuary?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I may be addicted to writing this, I finished it much sooner than anticipated

The wind moved through Adora and Catra’s hair, lifting it away from their necks as the skiff danced across the plains outside the Fright Zone. Neither had said a single word on the journey, not wanting to acknowledge the fact they were now alone. No home, no belongings and no food. In Catra’s mind, running from the Horde was merely a way to delay their inevitable deaths, giving them an extra day or two before they succumbed to hunger and thirst. Fleeing was futile; any hope they had was a creation from a misguided belief that they could escape to a place of safety that in all likelihood didn’t exist.

Adora clutched the rudder tightly with no idea of where she was heading, just Lonnie’s guiding words echoing around her head: _don’t ever look back._ Her initial optimism for their future waned every time she glanced across at the girl sat alongside her; having to see Catra’s expression of unmitigated despair was almost as dismaying as the situation that had caused it. She hated seeing Catra sad like this – they were best friends; they looked out for each other and eased each other’s pain. This time, however, Adora was struggling to find a way to do so and that was a position she couldn’t stand herself being in. She was always the one who had to look after them both, but what use would she be now if she couldn’t even do that?

“Where do you wanna go?” she forced herself to appear cheerful, “I don’t really know where anything is and I didn’t bring a map, but I think we need to decide before we hit the Whispering Woods.”

“Why’s that?” Catra mumbled, her voice devoid of emotion.

“Because they’re the Whispering Woods. No-one who has gone in has ever come out. We’ll die in there.”

The feline raised an eyebrow, “Sounds good.”

“Come on, you can’t be like this…”

Catra sat upright, frustrated that Adora didn’t seem to understand the hopelessness of their predicament, “Why can’t I be like this, huh? What don’t you get, Adora? I killed Shadow Weaver, you helped me cover it up – but not well enough, was it? And now we’re lost with no possible chance of survival. So yeah, I’m going to ‘be like this’ until you steer this thing into the woods and hopefully our deaths will be quick and painless.”

“I did not throw everything away for this!” Adora momentarily lost her composure as she wrenched the rudder, swerving the skiff away from the rapidly approaching forest, “I’m doing this because I care about you, Catra, but you must know we have given up a lot to be here. Our home and the future we were going for, it’s all gone.”

“Well I’m sorry I ruined your life, Adora! You didn’t have to run off with me! Drop me here and you can go back and forget about me; just tell them I kidnapped you and they’ll let you off. Because _you_ always were the special one who could do no wrong. But me… I was the problem child. I brought you down. Now you’ve finally got a chance to get rid of me and stop me getting in your way,” she stole Adora’s hand away and steered them back on course for the woods, the sudden change in direction sending them tumbling to the deck. They scrambled to regain their footing, fighting for control of the vessel, veering from side to side with their heading dictated by whichever of the two had the upper hand in their battle. Towards the woods and back again, over and over as the lifelong friends fought to alternately save and end themselves.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I don’t want to get rid of you! Please, Catra, we can’t give up now. We’re in this together.”

“We were never in this together!”

“Of course we were! We’ve always looked out for each other.”

“No, you never did! You didn’t stand up for me when Shadow Weaver was hurting me, you just let it happen. You wouldn’t ever do anything to get on her bad side, even if it meant letting me take punishment for something I didn’t do!”

Adora’s eyes fell. It was true, fear stopped her intervening so many times when she should have been defending Catra to their guardian. She hated herself for standing by while her best friend went through day after day of horrible abuse, and that remorse played no small part in her decision to accompany Catra on the escape, “I’m sorry. What Shadow Weaver did to you was wrong, and I was wrong too for not saying anything. But she’s gone now, she’s dead… please, Catra, we’ve got the opportunity to get away from all that, we have a chance to be happy. Don’t you think it’s worth trying?”

Catra paused her struggle. She had dreamed of ruling Etheria alongside Adora for years, and though they were hardly likely to take the whole planet now, her words rekindled a similar desire. Perhaps they truly could be happy together. Perhaps one day, years from now, they would be living together in a quiet village away from all the fighting, going about a life that was simple yet contenting. A life where Adora loved her as much as she loved Adora.

“Fine,” the small steps back she took were a concession of defeat. If Adora really thought there was a chance they would live, then what did she have to lose by putting her faith in that, however reluctant she was to believe it too? To have someone protecting her like Adora did was a luxury few ever held, and she couldn’t throw it back in her face, “Go.”

With control of the skiff fully in her hands again, Adora sped the two of them towards the horizon. Neither of the young women knew how long they would be running; the Horde wasn’t exactly happy to let its soldiers know the details of what they’d find outside the Fright Zone. Even the soldiers who got sent on active duty were told the bare minimum about how to get to the various rebel strongholds, and their squad were still yet to have a single mission in the field so they had no clue about the direction of any settlement. Of course, they’d heard of these outposts of the Rebellion – Alwyn, Elberon, Thaymor and countless other places that similarly sounded like the names of evil Princesses – but it was a mystery as to where or how far these were. As for any neutral civilian towns, these were never discussed, though Adora had heard rumours of their existence. She just hoped they were real, and that she and her best friend would be able to carve out a life, undetected, in one of them.

Again, their journey fell to a silence underscored only by the engine of the skiff humming as they raced ever forward. There was little point in talking – the past was too painful, the future was too unknown, and their present owed its entire existence to a dreadful combination of the two. Even small talk about the world around them seemed meaningless in the face of the gravity of the situation they were in. It could have been an hour, two or maybe more when the outlines of buildings came into focus some distance away and Adora nudged her friend to point out the place that could end up as their salvation. Though they both allowed themselves some measure of relief, it was tempered by the knowledge that it could equally be dangerous. Rebel fortresses likely littered the area, populated by elite soldiers brainwashed by the evil Princesses to kill indiscriminately, and if they wandered into one, that would be it for them.

Adora brought the skiff to a rapid halt about half a mile from the settlement. They still had no idea what they would be walking into, but they could at least see that there were no guard towers. Though it could easily have been a Rebellion trick, it appeared to have the look of a civilian town rather than a military outpost, but until they arrived, they were restricted to guessing.

“Why did you stop?”

Adora gestured at her clothing, “I’m wearing a shirt with the Horde logo on and we’re driving a Horde-marked skiff. If we go in there like that, the rebel soldiers will attack us on sight.”

“So what do we do? You got some paint to cover it up?”

“Where would I have got paint from? We left in a hurry,” the attempted joke completely missed its mark, “Look, we’ll dump the skiff here out of sight and walk the rest of the way. You take your belt off and I’ll turn my top inside out, got it?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before tugging the neck of her t-shirt over her head. Catra couldn’t help but stare as Adora’s body revealed itself; the slender but muscular frame that gave her a deceptive amount of strength; the flat, toned stomach that she had always dreamt of being able to gently caress. And then, her breasts nestled inside the white sports bra Adora was wearing. Being restrained and covered up like this seemed almost blasphemous to Catra. She’d snatched a few surreptitious glances in the showers back in the Fright Zone and they were the most-

“Hello? Catra?”

The feline jolted back to the present moment, unbuckling her belt and letting it fall to the ground, its purpose no longer of any relevance to her, “Sorry, miles away.”

“Don’t worry,” Adora’s hand caressed the back of Catra’s neck, an action whose intention was reassurance, but was received as love. Though they had been close friends since a young age, Catra had always wanted more from their relationship and interpreting friendly words and actions as more romantic went some way to satisfying that urge, despite how desperate it may have appeared, “We’re going to be okay, you know? We’ve got each other.”

Catra let a small feeling of hope wash over her as they took their first steps towards the encampment. Ever since they could remember, the two of them had looked out for one another, and it had given her the strength to get through the worst times. Besides, maybe she had been too hard on the girl back there. Sure, Adora might not have stood up for her in front of Shadow Weaver, but hadn’t she always been there to comfort Catra after she’d been subjected to the sorceress’ mistreatment? Adora was the only person she ever let in and allowed her vulnerable side to come out in front of, and she had never used it as leverage against her like the others would undoubtedly have done. While she knew the love she had for Adora wasn’t reciprocated in quite the same way right now, if the two of them could build a new life outside of the Fright Zone together, wouldn’t fate step in? Spending all that time together, Adora would surely realise that she and Catra were meant to be, that no other person on Etheria would love her like Catra did. It had to be her – if she didn’t have Adora, what possible reason would she have to keep going?

“Catra.”

The girl yelped as Adora’s calling of her name dragged her out of her own mind. More worryingly, her voice was different, almost like…

“Are you okay?”

Catra calmed a little, “Sorry, you just sounded like Shadow Weaver then.”

“I, uh… I didn’t say anything,” Adora tilted her head, “Are you sure you’re OK?”

_Was_ she OK? The sound of what she thought was Shadow Weaver’s voice had rattled her – she was certain that she heard it, despite how impossible that could have been. Shadow Weaver was dead, she reminded herself, that woman couldn’t hurt her anymore. She shook the thoughts from her head, silently begging herself to keep it all together – Adora had told her she was going to make everything better and Catra couldn’t let her down. She couldn’t let _herself_ down.

“I’m… I’m fine. Must’ve been the wind. Let’s just get to this place.”

Ten minutes later, the two young women found themselves at the gate to the settlement. Adrenaline was running through both of them, knowing that any second the rebel army could discover who they really were and attack, but fear turned to confusion upon seeing the peaceful scene within the walls. Instead of soldiers patrolling a military outpost, there were children running and laughing through the streets of what seemed to be a small village. There were no gun emplacements or command posts, but market stalls and houses. And they were not met with a rifle pointed at their heads, instead being greeted by a jovial older woman.

“Hey there, strangers! Welcome to Elberon, if you need anything just give me a shout or ask anyone here, we’re a pretty friendly bunch, you’ll find.”

_Elberon?_ Adora’s face ran through a rapid string of emotions as she tried to process the information of where they were, unable to reconcile what she was seeing with what she believed to be true. Elberon was a heavily fortified enemy base, somewhere the Rebellion trained their most capable soldiers, brainwashing them to force loyalty to the evil Princesses. It was somewhere they had been warned countless times to stay away from, that if a mission took them anywhere near, they should retreat back to the Fright Zone. In nothing Adora had been told in training, nor read in the manuals, did it say that Elberon appeared to be a civilian town. This made no sense to her.

“Y’alright there, sweetie?” the woman squinted at her, becoming concerned at the combination of silence and the vacant look on her face.

Adora jolted herself back. She had to act like someone who knew about the town – or at least someone who wasn’t a Horde solider, “Yes, yes, I’m fine. We’ve just come a long way and we’re quite tired.”

“Oh! Say no more, darling,” she placed an arm across the girl’s back and moved next to her. Adora felt rather uncomfortable at the invasion of her personal space, but held her nerve, fighting off the urge to use her self-defence training to put the woman on the ground, “See that big building on the right down there? That’s the town inn, they’ll give you a bed and something to help you sleep, if you catch my drift? I mean, assuming you girls are old enough to drink.”

“Uh, thank you. That’s amazing,” Adora said, feeling somewhat proud that her mission to blend in as a civilian had initially gone successfully. With a smile and a nod, the woman dashed off, leaving the two girls to make their way to the tavern they had been pointed towards. Once sure they were out of earshot, Adora spoke at low volume, “Something isn’t right, Catra. How can this be Elberon? Elberon is an enemy fortress and this… this is just a town. With people.”

Catra rolled her eyes. For having such excellent perception in battle, Adora was incredibly naïve in accepting everything she was told by their superiors. It had been years since Catra had finally realised that the Horde wasn’t everything it claimed to be – she knew they weren’t really saving Etheria from maniacal princesses, they were trying to take it over. It was an unspoken truth that all but the youngest cadets, and apparently Adora too, were aware of. Not that it made a huge amount of difference to her, Catra knew the Horde had the upper hand, and in the midst of a war, it was better to be on the winning side. Adora, by contrast, truly felt she was doing what was right – she always had that irritating streak of morality in her, motivated by the belief that she would genuinely be liberating the planet the moment she saw active duty.

“Of course it’s not a fortress, Adora. They lied to us.”

“Lied? Why would they do that though?”

A long sigh escaped Catra’s mouth. This was hardly the time or place for a long lecture about the true nature of the place they’d grown up in, or the misinformation that they had been fed since a young age. There was so much she could say, but giving Adora a crisis of conscience right now would only increase the likelihood that they’d be found and she had no option but to backpedal, “Maybe ‘lied’ was a bit strong. It was probably a mistake or something.”

“Yeah, probably,” she seemed to have readily accepted the deflection, pausing briefly to compose herself before they entered the inn. Confidently, albeit awkwardly, strutting up to the bar, Adora attracted the attention of the barkeeper stood behind.

“What can I get ya, Miss?”

“My friend and I, we’re… uh, we’re travellers and we need a place to stay. I was told you can help.”

The man threw a towel over his shoulder, amiably chuckling at the two young women, “Sure can, Miss! I have plenty of rooms available, and it’s only thirty-”

“We haven’t got any money,” Catra interrupted hurriedly, averting her gaze when the barkeeper’s met her own. There was little to gain by dancing around the point as Adora appeared to be doing, “We have nothing.”

“That’s not a problem, ladies. I’m after some help around here, and I think we could work something out if you two don’t mind putting in a bit of labour.”

The two young women exchanged a brief look, that being all the discussion required for Adora to agree to the proposal. To her, and to some extent Catra as well, it finally felt like their lives were actually going to improve, that fleeing the Fright Zone was genuinely about to work out. Somewhere to live, somewhere to work, somewhere their lives had meaning – wasn’t this exactly what she had hoped for, what she had promised Catra? Eager to prove herself to her host, Adora wasted no time in getting to work in the kitchen, washing glasses while a less-keen Catra assisted.

“See, I knew things would get better,” Adora let a small laugh of relief slip from her lips, “We’ve got a place to stay, a job that pays our way, and we’re both still alive.”

“Don’t get too excited, we don’t…” shouting from the front of the inn silenced Catra, and she could feel the anxiety shooting up exponentially as always happened when she heard raised voices. Creeping towards the door on the balls of her feet, she laid her back flat against the wall, slowly daring to peer around through the glass and see what was causing the commotion. Her vision was somewhat obstructed by the layout of the building, with its large wooden supports directly in her eyeline, but she could just about see the armour-clad Horde soldier threatening the landlord. More troops burst into the tavern, pointing their guns at the patrons, and while Catra couldn’t hear what they were saying, it didn’t take much to work out why they were here.

“We’ve gotta go,” she hissed at Adora, using her head to gesture towards the back door which led from the kitchen to the alley that ran behind the inn. Gunfire and the screams of terrified townspeople provided the soundtrack to their escape into the narrow alleyway, lined with barrels and crates that they could use to conceal themselves while they assessed their options. They knew they had to get out of the town, but it was now swarming with the Horde’s army.

“How did they find us?” Adora was barely audible in her attempt to keep unnoticed, though the commotion in the tavern behind them had spilled into the streets and the frightened shouts of the Elberon residents would drown out her voice even at normal volume. Every scream made her shudder – knowing that her actions had caused the Horde to attack innocent townsfolk did not sit right with her, and the urge to reveal herself to protect them was only suppressed by her loyalty to Catra.

“They probably tracked the skiff or something, I don’t… AA-”

A shadow moving in the corner of her eye caused her to gasp, Adora’s hand reflexively covering her mouth the moment she heard the loud noise, “What the hell, Catra?”

Catra’s head jerked around trying to get a focus on what she was seeing as her peripheral vision was swarmed with darkness, rendering her ever more fearful. Could this have been some new tactic, some dark magic that Shadow Weaver had given to Hordak before her death to develop new weapons with? Or perhaps some technology he had created to search them out – but more to the point, why was Adora not worried about this?

“I’m sorry, but… it’s the shadows! They’re surrounding us. Don’t tell me you can’t see them!”

“Wh… what shadows?”

“They’re everywhere, Adora!” she pulled at the girl’s shirt, desperate for her to see the same thing she was, “You _have_ to see them, please!”

Adora scanned the alley yet found nothing of what Catra was describing to her. It worried her; she knew that the events of the past 24 hours would have impacted on the girl’s mental health, but for her to be seeing things that weren’t there… She reassured herself that it was just the stress of the situation – being hunted down like they were would put immense pressure on anyone, and once they had fled somewhere the Horde couldn’t find them, Catra’s state of mind would improve. It was temporary, it had to be.

The light from the end of the alleyway darkened, a Horde soldier’s body obstructing the view. Pulling the feline downward with her, Adora used the jumble of metal kegs to conceal both of them, praying that the hunter would move on without checking. There was no such luck; the soldier approached, kicking at a dumpster along the way in the hope that their targets would be exposed. Not daring to even breathe, lest the noise reveal their location, Adora and Catra crouched together, terrified that this was the end of everything for them.

The soldier was now stood inches from them, scanning the dingy backstreet for any sign of the fugitives. When they found nothing, they gave a small shrug and turned around to make their way back to the main street. As they did so, the corner of their eye spotted the two young women in their hiding place. There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other, the awful realisation that they had been caught making the young women’s stomachs sink.

“Please don’t…” Adora begged. Catra was unable to make any sound, having already begun to accept her fate. She was right – trying to run was a pointless endeavour, and the fact that they’d found a glimmer of hope only for it to be ripped away after mere minutes just made it that tiny bit worse.

“Don’t what?” the soldier demanded. The question threw both girls off guard. Surely the soldiers _knew_ why they were here – the Horde was well-known for its secrecy, but the purpose of a mission had to be essential information for the troops they were sending.

Adora tilted her head, confused as to why she had to set out the trooper’s own mission to them, “Don’t… take us back to the Fright Zone to kill us?”

“Ohh, well that explains why they’re here. Guess I found you first,” the soldier’s entire body seemed to start dissolving into a black mist of magic, solidifying again in the form of a green-skinned lizard-like creature in a black bodysuit, with long blonde hair flowing down their back. Catra and Adora both gaped at what they had just seen happen, almost convinced they were having a shared hallucination, “I get that reaction a lot. Name’s Double Trouble, I guess you could call me an actor. And judging by the look on your faces when you first saw me, an excellent one at that.”

“You’re a shapeshifter? And you’re not with the Horde?”

“You catch on quick, sweetheart, I am not. But now I’ve found you two…”

Adora clutched onto Catra, the fear of the Horde finding them now renewed after the momentary relief of discovering this person was not really a soldier, “Please don’t sell us out, _please_. They will kill us.”

“Oh darling,” Double Trouble smirked, flicking their tail, “I’m not a bad person, and you do beg so very nicely. I’ll help you out of here… for a price.”

“We don’t have any money!”

The shapeshifter thought for a moment, then crouched in front of Catra, a long, green finger trailing down her face, “I think you could repay me in… other ways.”

“Other ways?” Adora squinted, not understanding what Double Trouble was trying to say. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Catra would have found her cluelessness hilarious. She flatly explained with a sigh, “They’re talking about sex, Adora.”

“Oh gosh, darling, no! No…” Double Trouble’s shock was difficult to read. It could have been regret through Catra’s misinterpretation of their words that they were feeling, but she couldn’t discount the idea that they were overacting to hide the fact that it was _exactly_ what they meant, “I just mean a few odd jobs to help me out. I’ll give you sanctuary, you do some work for me, we both get what we want. Although, Kitten, if you _really_ wanted to ‘help me out’ in another way…”

Double Trouble’s hand made its way back to Catra’s face, caressing up the side and stroking the tufts of hair that hung under her ears. The unwanted touching triggered a response of fear in the feline, evoking the memories of Shadow Weaver doing the same moments before launching into her usual torture routine and, almost as a reflex, Catra punched the person that her brain had interpreted as an attacker. The blow startled her as much as it did Double Trouble, and she scrambled to apologise, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“No need, I deserved that, kitten. But so feisty, this one, you and me could go far together.”

Something in Adora had taken an instant dislike to the shapeshifter, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. The over-familiar manner was off-putting for a start, and the way they had put their hands all over Catra sent a shiver down her spine, “If we accept your offer, how do we know we can trust you?”

“You don’t,” they peered around the corner behind them, “But I’d say you’ve got twenty seconds, tops, before some actual Horde soldiers find you, so what’s your answer?”

Adora buried her head in her hands. Everything inside her was screaming that Double Trouble would betray them – in the future if not now – and she began wondering if they could escape another way. Her eyes rapidly darted around the landscape, looking for a gap in a fence, an exit the Horde hadn’t covered… anything that she and Catra could use to get free.

“Ten seconds.”

“Please, Adora,” Catra gripped her arm, and Adora could feel how much she was shaking in fear, “They will kill me.”

“Five…”

Quietly groaning in defeat, Adora glanced up at the tall figure in front of them, “We accept.”

“Good choice, sweetie,” Double Trouble quickly assumed the form of the Horde soldier once again and stepped out into the main street, saluting at the pair of soldiers coming towards them, “No sign of the fugitives at all. Go secure the Northern perimeter.”

When the troops were out of sight, Double Trouble returned to the alleyway, congratulating themself on how easily the soldiers had been fooled by their incredible performance. If they’d had longer to study the armour, they might have been able to do a better job, but for a quick attempt like that, it had gone pleasingly well. They sat on top of one of the barrels next to the two girls, crossing one leg over the other and leaning backwards with a self-satisfied expression painted across their face.

“So here’s how this is going to work. You two will come back home with me, The Valley of the Lost.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Adora interrupted, almost laughing at the misstep she thought she had noticed. Double Trouble had made their first mistake in her eyes, and she had to call it out, “That’s in the Crimson Waste. The _completely uninhabitable_ Crimson Waste. I knew you were a liar.”

The shapeshifter changed their form to mirror Adora, repeating her words mockingly, “I knew you were a liar.”

“Hey!”

“Do calm down, darling,” Double Trouble reverted to their own image, “The Crimson Waste is far from uninhabitable. I should know, I was born there, and I’ve lived there my whole life.”

Catra, who had been largely lost in her thoughts as the stranger and her friend had their back-and-forth, came to their defence, “Adora, an hour ago, we thought Elberon was a heavily defended fortress of elite Rebellion fighters. Has it not occurred to you that the Horde might have got _that_ wrong too?”

A long, loud sigh escaped the blonde girl’s lips as she came to realise that regardless of whether they were lying or not, Double Trouble was still the only chance they had of making it out alive. It pained her to put her faith in someone whose entire life seemed to revolve around deceiving others, but she and Catra had little choice, “OK. But if you do anything to betray either of us, I will kill you myself.”

“Oh, blondie,” Double Trouble grinned, “With an attitude like that, you’ll fit in just fine in the Crimson Waste.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double Trouble is going to be such a horrible bastard.
> 
> In the next chapter: Catra begins to work for DT, but her first job is not without its risks


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving home with their two guests, Double Trouble wastes no time in using the two women to their advantage. Whilst the praise they give Catra has her on-side almost immediately, Adora's doubts start to come between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get a good glimpse of how analytical DT is here, scary as that thought is...
> 
> And just to warn you, there's a lot of emotional manipulation in this, as well as some fighting and an implied rape threat.

“There’s a saying round these parts: ‘In the Crimson Waste, the strong make the rules’”, Double Trouble announced, leading the two young women into the edge of a makeshift village that sprawled around the natural rock formations in a steep-sided canyon. The three of them had journeyed overnight, anxiously waiting out time in Elberon until the Horde had finally given up on finding the fugitives and left. As soon as the troops had cleared the village, the shapeshifter had hurried them away to start the long trip home. Adora was impressed at their stamina, hours of quick-paced walking seeming to have no effect on their larger-than-life, energetic personality.

“The reality is, darling, that’s just what they think. The ‘strong’, they have such fragile egos and it would devastate them to know the truth – that _I_ am the one who makes the rules around here. I just let them think they do, it keeps them quiet.”

“So you’re kind of the boss of this place?” Catra’s eyes lit up. If Double Trouble ran the show, and she was on their side, that meant that she would be able to fully enjoy her new home. There would be no-one to tell her she couldn’t do anything, no-one to admonish her for doing what she wanted. True freedom, the likes of which she had never known, was an intoxicating draw.

They laughed, “Not exactly, Kitten. Let me tell you how the Valley of the Lost works, shall I? This little town you see around you is populated by scum – thieves, blackmailers, thugs… all manner of criminal life is here. Someone has to keep them all in check, make sure they don’t get ideas above their station that might upset the delicate balance of life here. That’s where I come in. Thanks to my gift, I can be anyone, any time, and that means I have access to more places than most. I know every _thing_ about every _one_. So if people want… shall I say, _certain things_ doing, they turn to me. I control their world, yet no-one realises, and that’s how I want it to stay.”

“Certain things?” the turn of phrase had pricked Adora’s suspicion. She couldn’t let herself and Catra be drawn into some kind of criminal underworld; it wasn’t what they fled for – they left mainly to save their own lives, but also to find somewhere that they could both be happy. Somewhere away from war, from death and heartbreak. Somewhere they weren’t helping delinquents to carry out petty crime.

“Let’s just say the less you know the better, hm?” Double Trouble playfully poked a finger to her nose, their smile only breeding more discomfort inside her, “Well here it is, home sweet home. Make yourselves comfortable.”

In keeping with the rest of the buildings in the valley, Double Trouble’s house was a grey stone building, ramshackle in appearance. But the exterior, with its wooden shutters, dirtied canvas canopies and cracked walls was, like so much of the shapeshifter’s life, merely a façade that hid the true nature of what was inside. The two women found themselves walking into a lavish interior – marvelling at the immaculately polished marble floors, finely crafted wooden furniture and high-end soft furnishings. Whatever Double Trouble did for a living, and that was still a huge concern for Adora, it clearly paid well. After showing the girls to their room, which was outfitted to the same standard as the rest of the place, DT made a fanfare about giving them some privacy to get settled in, making absolutely sure the pair knew they were about to leave the two alone and head off to take care of something. They did no such thing.

Allowing anyone into their house like that brought some level of risk. These were two desperate young women, already essentially owing Double Trouble their lives, but other than the Horde being after them, they knew little about their guests – and that was a position they hated to be in. They didn’t get to where they were in life by _not_ knowing everything about the people they interacted with, figuring out their personalities, their strengths and their weaknesses. Thankfully, the house had long been set up to allow them to pry into the lives of any guests; the spyhole between their bedroom and the spare had provided them with countless valuable insights in the past, from private self-doubts to dark sexual fantasies. There was no voyeuristic angle to installing the tiny slot to observe people, it was all about discovering secrets they could use against people, but they would be lying to say that it hadn’t occasionally offered up some moments to keep in mind for the lonelier nights.

Watching the two young women as they sat and talked about their new home and the future that they thought they had was enlightening. While their words didn’t capture Double Trouble’s interest very much – after all, people lied all the time so words rarely revealed anything useful – it was the unspoken things that exposed them: the posture, the way their gaze fell, the balance of engagement. Ten minutes of studious observation was all they needed to understand Catra entirely. Adora was harder to read, but Catra... Catra was an open book, almost painfully so at times. She was rapt in every word the blonde said, gazing into her eyes and sometimes not even taking in what Adora was saying to her. She had sat on the bed inches away from the other girl, just on the borderline between close and intimate, leaning in ever so slightly, and it was almost heart-breaking to watch. The girl clearly had a huge crush on her friend, and from Adora’s continual subtle shuffling away throughout the conversation, as well as the positioning of her feet facing away, it didn’t seem to be reciprocated. That was something Double Trouble could use.

But it wasn’t just the private moments that they were analysing. From the moment the three of them had met, DT was noting the smallest parts of the way the two young women spoke, the way they acted and moved, and it had been very informative indeed. A conversation along the journey, while Adora and Catra attempted to pull a veil over the true reason they were being chased by the Horde, had implicitly revealed some of the brunette’s insecurities. From what the shapeshifter could gleam and interpret, the pair had a mother of sorts, a woman called Shadow Weaver, who appeared to favour Adora to such an extent that it had obviously hurt Catra over and over. It sounded as though she had been told her whole life that she was inferior, and the tension it created between the two was clear – tension that they could easily manipulate. They’d seen it so many times before, someone constantly put down and made to feel worthless, and every time it felt like an angelic chorus rang out, proclaiming the arrival of another easy target. Someone with such little self-esteem just needed a few compliments, a few breadcrumbs of praise, and it would turn them to putty in their beautifully-manicured hands. A pawn to provide a risk-free advantage in their games. A willing slave who didn’t even know they were a slave. Perfect.

“Catra, could I talk to you for a moment, darling?” they slinked into the doorway of the room, not caring a jot about the conversation they were interrupting, “Alone.”

“What do you need her for?” Adora took to her feet, immediately taking a defensive line – just as Double Trouble had planned. That much they had worked out about her: she was overly protective of Catra, but that was something they could easily fix. They wouldn't even need to do very much to get Catra to fight against Adora's protectiveness.

“I have a job for her. Just a little something to pay me back for saving your lives.”

“Why can’t we _both_ do it?”

She couldn’t have made it easier if she’d tried. DT seized the opportunity with two hands, “It’s a one-person job and I think Catra is better suited to it. Nothing against you, though, darling.”

“It’s fine, Adora,” Catra, again as expected, took the reptilian’s side. The power of one tiny compliment to someone who had rarely received them was staggering, “You have a rest, I’ll do this first and be back before you know it. See you in a bit!”

DT made sure to fully close the door behind themself and Catra, leading her to a small, private room that they occasionally used as a study. _Very_ occasionally, given the dust that coated most of the furniture. But they had to give the illusion that they needed a privacy under which they could talk to the girl without interruption. Spinning the line that Adora didn’t trust them, and that she’d be on high alert for anything untoward, was easy enough – it was true, after all. Likewise, taking Catra aside for a covert conversation was just the start of the wedge they planned to drive between the two women.

“I’m surprised you didn’t pick Adora, she’s better than me at most things.”

Double Trouble hushed her, their voice just above a whisper. There wasn’t a need for this level of secrecy, the walls of the house provided good sound insulation, but it all played into the fiction they were creating: a secret that Catra was the only one privileged enough to be let in on, a concrete superiority over her friend. A way to subtly tell her she and Adora were not on the same side. What was the phrase… divide and conquer?

“Come now, Kitten, you don’t need to be like that, Adora can’t hear you. We both know you are so much more capable than she is – faster, more agile, more resourceful. I could see it in you from the first moment I laid eyes on you. You’re a fighter, aren’t you?”

“We… we both are. We’re trained soldiers,” she tried deflecting the compliment, uncomfortable at the unconditional praise. Though she couldn’t deny it felt good, it didn’t quite sit right with her that someone was saying all these positive things about her.

“No, no, no, darling,” DT took a calculated risk, cupping her face in one hand and gently stroking the small tufts of hair with their index finger. Last time it had caused her to lash out, but this time was different. They knew the gamble had paid off the moment they felt her head press into their hand, desperate for the touch – the joy at knowing they had control was immense, and it had only taken scraps of praise and minimal physical contact, such was the complete absence of self-respect the girl had. Bringing their face closer to hers, they lowered their voice even further, “You’re special, I can see it from here. But Shadow Weaver didn’t see it, did she? That’s why you ran. Adora doesn’t see it either. But me? I know you have potential; you and I, sweetheart, we could do great things together, couldn’t we?”

Catra tried to speak, but her voice failed her, coming out as a breathy grunt. She cleared her throat to try again, but DT interrupted before she got her chance.

“Uh-uh, I want to hear you say it, Kitten.”

“W-we could d-do great things… together,” she was trembling. Quite why, she had no idea, she wasn’t scared of Double Trouble – indeed it was the opposite, she found them a lot safer to be around that any other authority figure in her life. Maybe it was the unfamiliar feeling of receiving praise; her body was reflexively preparing for it all to come crashing down around her in a frenzy of abuse and violence.

The shapeshifter laughed quietly to themself, “Now, I’m going to give you the chance to prove I’m not wrong. I just need you to go and pick up some money from a friend for me.”

* * *

A short while later, Catra found herself sat in a dark corner of the local bar, her eyes scanning the room. She already knew the person she was looking for – Double Trouble had transformed into them to let her see the target and she had the image committed to her memory: a light brown-furred fox-like man, usually dressed in a brown waistcoat. DT had told her little else, other than that they were owed money from this person and that it was Catra’s job to ensure that payment was made. It had been heavily implied that she might need to use violence, though Double Trouble had stopped short of explicitly ordering it, but that was no problem for her. Despite all the horsing around she did during her training, Catra knew she was an agile, cunning fighter capable of holding her own against almost any opponent. The weedy specimen of a man that the lizard had shown her would be no problem to take down.

Besides, DT was counting on her to succeed. No-one had ever had that level of faith in her, not even Adora most of the time, and every part of Catra knew she couldn’t let them down. To fail Double Trouble would be to fail herself. Knowing that this person believed in her – _properly_ believed in her – was more of an incentive to bring the money back than anything to do with repayment for rescuing her back in Elberon. If that belief ended up misplaced, it would just prove that she really was worth nothing, that she would never amount to anything, even if she tried - that Shadow Weaver had been right all along.

Having spotted the target sat at the bar, one arm propping his head up while the other caressed a glass of some type of spirit, Catra took several minutes just to watch and develop a strategy. He seemed to be alone, which meant it would be one-on-one, and was now on his second drink, so his reaction times might be slightly slower than usual. The course of action laid itself out in her mind – starting a fight in the middle of a crowded bar would be foolish, as other patrons might try and get involved, which could end up with them separated, or worse, ganging up on her. No, it would be necessary to try and get the man alone, preferably outside and out of sight so that they could ‘talk’. A plan formed in Catra’s head, and she quietly stood up, running a hand haphazardly through her hair to make it appear that little bit wilder and pulling her top down to reveal more of her chest than usual.

“This seat taken, handsome?” she put on her best seductive drawl as she approached him. It was a real shot in the dark – she didn’t know if he would even be interested, but Catra needed to work with what she had. And what she had was a lithe, youthful body with the type of features that men drooled over – she’d seen how people stared at her back in the Fright Zone when they thought she wasn’t looking. She flaunted it sometimes, ‘accidentally’ coming out of the shower naked to give the cadets an eyeful, knowing that they’d knock one out to the mental image later on. None of them would ever admit it though; she was almost universally despised thanks to the mind games Shadow Weaver used to play – putting her down in front of the others, the little rumours she started that mutated into much bigger slurs on her character. But she was sure they would have been all over her if only they could have protected their social status and stopped their peers finding out.

The fox looked up, his eyes running up and down her body, “It’s free for you, beautiful. And so is your drink, what’re you having?”

Bait taken. Now all Catra had to do was to try and lure him away from the bar, “I’m not thirsty… at least, not for that. What do you say we take this somewhere private?”

“Damn, you’re eager!” he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Some hot girl just coming up to him in a bar and asking for sex? Maybe it was some kind of scam, there were enough of those types of people here, but the cautious part of his brain was silenced by a different organ entirely, “But yeah… let’s do it, kitty.”

Catra wrenched him from his chair, pressing one of the guy’s hands to her backside to heighten his interest – a kind of preview of what he thought he would be having soon. She worried that the forceful treatment might put him off, but there was only a lecherous sparkle in his eye as he was dragged out of the bar, barely able to remember to take steps so he wasn’t sliding along the floor under her pull. There was a momentary fear from his brainless expression that she had come on a little too strong – if she didn’t ease off on the flirting soon, he’d be running home to change his clothes before she could ask about the money.

The fresher air outside seemed to cool things down a little, Catra using a moment to take in her environment and searching somewhere they could talk. Opposite the bar, next to a small building housing what appeared to be a marketplace for weapons, a secluded alley stood out to her as the perfect place to get down to business – though not quite the same sort of business the fox was expecting.

“Ooh, kitty likes it rough!” he grinned as Catra pushed him against the wall of the alleyway, “Is she gonna get those claws out?”

“That depends on your answer to my next question. Where’s Double Trouble’s money?”

“Oh, fuck,” the name carried with it the realisation that he was not going to be hooking up with her. Catra wasn’t sure whether he was more annoyed about this or having been hunted down by DT for payment, “Look, I haven’t got it. I swear, as soon as I can afford it, I’ll pay them.”

The smirk on Catra’s face grew as she realised that she would get her chance to cast off the restraint. She would be able to prove herself a more than capable fighter to Double Trouble, show them that she could be useful. She brought her right hand up to the guy’s face, extending her claws whilst looking dead into his eyes, “Well then, it looks like your lucky day. Kitty’s going to get these out for you.”

With a quick step back, she slashed out at his face and, though he tried to dodge, still managed to scratch across the man’s shoulder. He tried to retaliate with some jabbed punches, but Catra was quicker and evaded every single one. Needing to try a different tactic, he grabbed hold of her arm, hoping to wrestle her to the ground. His grip put her off balance and she crashed to the floor, destroying a small wooden crate in the process.

“Now that’s better, kitty,” the man took advantage of her prone state, kneeling astride her and pinning her shoulders to the floor. He was a lot stronger than he looked, and Catra began to feel disappointed in herself for misjudging her opponent like that, “I don’t know who you think you are, but in the Crimson Waste, when you promise something to another person, it’s theirs to take. So now, I’m gonna take it.”

She closed her eyes, imploring her brain to spark into life with an escape plan while a soft-furred hand slid under her top. The touch made every neuron start screaming that she needed to get away, clouding her thinking and turning what should have been a well-thought out course of action into the sloppy, impulsive move of spitting in the man’s face. A means of escape, it was not, but the surprise did at least momentarily make him pause.

“Bitch!” the hand that remained free balled into a fist and thundered into Catra’s cheekbone, initially causing a sensation of complete numbness. The pain soon flowed through, but it only served to steel her determination to fend off the attack and re-sharpen her mind. Her returning self-awareness made her see that she had a small margin of movement for the lower half of her body and Catra jerked a knee up, forcefully catching the man between the legs. He keeled over backwards, clutching his crotch, which was now radiating with agony.

That was all the opportunity Catra needed to jump back to her feet, a renewed aggression pumping through her veins. She could not, and was not going to, fail Double Trouble. The man was still writhing in pain, crouched on the floor in front of her, and she took full advantage, kicking him hard in the stomach. He collapsed onto his back, but her attack did not let up, stomping her foot down onto his chest over and over, then violently pulling him up by his collar. It was as though she had entirely forgotten about her mission as she rained punch after punch down on his now-bloodstained face, barely in control of the rage she had been consumed by.

“Okay, okay,” he wheezed, raising his hands in defeat. Another couple of blows landed before Catra finally took in his surrender, sending splatters of blood flying onto the walls of the alleyway, “I’ll pay… I’ll pay just… just stop, _please._ ”

* * *

“Got your money,” Catra leaned on the doorframe of the entrance to the house and nonchalantly threw the small pouch in Double Trouble’s direction. Even the pain enveloping her face wasn’t going to stop her from feeling the euphoria of a successful mission.

“Well done, Kitten!” the admiring look upon their face was everything she needed, a new high that she craved. They made a brief count of the coins inside the pouch, raising a surprised eyebrow, “Even looks like you came back with a little extra, bravo, darling, _bravo_! Such incredible work. I could give someone as impressive as you quite the future, you know.”

If Catra could have frozen time at any point in her life, it would have been this moment, with Double Trouble’s praise washing over her. And it was proper praise, not the sort of begrudging ‘well done’ she used to receive from the training sergeants when her squad completed their task. DT wasn’t saying this because they had to, they were saying it because they genuinely believed she was worth something. _Someone as impressive as you_. She had never once been told she was good at what she did, let alone ‘impressive’, not even by Adora.

“I’m waiting for a ‘thank you’, Kitten,” the lizard tapped their foot with affected impatience. They had no need for Catra’s gratitude – the admiration they were piling on her was for their own gain, not hers – but it was necessary to give her a subtle reminder of her place in their arrangement.

“Th-thank you.”

Double Trouble planted a kiss on her forehead, which she made no attempt to shy away from, “My pleasure, darling. Now I have some business to attend to, why don’t you run along and tell Adora how well you did, hey?”

Catra nodded rapidly, as eager to do what they wanted to keep her new-found respect as she was to boast about her success, then swept away towards her bedroom. She hoped Adora would be just as proud of her as she was of herself, but it was not to be. As soon as she entered, the blonde jumped up and ran towards her, more concerned about the bruise that had appeared on the side of her face than any detail of the job, “Oh my God, Catra. What happened?”

“DT sent me to do some work and I aced it! I’m going to be really good at this.”

“You got hurt!” Adora gestured vigorously at her face, “You shouldn’t be getting yourself involved in this – you don’t even know the first thing about Double Trouble.”

“And?!” she couldn’t understand why her friend wasn’t quite so happy for her, “I know that DT actually cares about me and knows how good I am at what I’m doing. I’m _happy,_ Adora, I’ve never had that before.”

Adora pressed her palms into her face in frustration. The fact that their host was such a mystery was terrifying to her – in every aspect of her training, it had been drilled into her that preparation was key. To know the skills of one’s opponent was to gain an advantage before battle had even begun, but this battle was beginning to spiral out of her control already.

“Catra, the first ‘job’ you got sent on resulted in you getting punched in the face. I’m worried about you… please don’t do any more.”

“I know what you’re doing Adora,” Double Trouble had told her this might happen. They’d given Catra a stark warning that such a major shift in her position could make Adora a little resentful, “You’re jealous.”

“Jealous? What…?”

“You heard. You’re jealous because I’m finally on top. I’m the one who gets the praise while you’re treated like an inconvenience, and you _cannot_ handle it, can you? All these years, you flaunted being Shadow Weaver’s golden child and now you’ve lost your status and you hate it. You're becoming me -maybe I should ask Double Trouble to hit _you_ every day, so you know what it was _really_ like growing up in your shadow!”

Adora took a deep breath. Much as she wanted to argue against the horrible words Catra was saying, she knew that the girl’s mental state was fragile, so she didn’t truly mean it. In the last couple of days, she had murdered her abuser, fled from the Horde twice and been abruptly immersed in an entirely new world – it was no wonder she was lashing out like that, especially if DT had been influencing her. There would be little use in escalating things between the two of them; it would only push Catra further away into the arms of someone who cared little for her wellbeing.

“I’m going to leave you alone for a bit,” she said solemnly, shaking her head. Some time for Catra to cool off and calm down would be helpful to both of them, “We’ll talk this evening.”

“Good! Go!” she was still angry. For the first time in her life, someone other than Adora actually gave a shit about her, and all her so-called ‘friend’ wanted to do was to tear it down. It was exactly as Double Trouble had said: no longer being the favourite was giving Adora some form of identity crisis, that she’d deal with it by trying to come between them and that Catra needed to handle it by refusing to give Adora what she wanted. It seemed a little harsh, but DT appeared to be very knowledgeable about these things, and they cared about her enough to give her the advice, so it had to be what was best.

“Hello Catra.”

She screamed and jumped back against the wall at the sound of Shadow Weaver’s voice, frantically scanning the room for its source, “W-where are you?”

“You thought you could get rid of me, Catra?”

“No, you can’t… you can’t be,” she pressed her eyes closed in the hope it would strike the voice from her head, “You’re gone!”

Shadow Weaver’s cackle startled her, “You murdered me, Catra. _Killer._ How would you like Double Trouble to find out? _Killer._ You’ll lose them as well as Adora. _Killer._ Then it’ll just be us, Catra. _Killer._ And there won't be anyone to save you this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter: Adora discovers what Double Trouble really does, whilst another job for Catra ends with disturbing consequences.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora finds out Double Trouble's secret, while Catra's latest job ends in disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, two important things before I start...
> 
> Firstly, I have changed the title. This is because I suddenly realised that there is already a fic called 'Live With It' by Johannas_Motivational_Insults (it's quite a read!). That must have stuck in my mind when thinking up the original title, and of course, I searched for "living with it" and that came up with no results, so I though "Great, I'll use that!". Entirely my error there, and sorry if I've confused anyone.
> 
> Secondly, you may also have guessed (given the much longer gap and other fics I've posted since the last chapter) that I had more trouble with this chapter. My entire self-confidence in my writing vanished for two days, but it has returned thanks to giving myself that break - however I'm going to try and alternate between this and Two Weeks (my Catradora Summer Holiday AU that you should totally read!) and not rush to get them done.
> 
> Anyway, onto torturing our favourite ladies...

The click of the front door shutting spurred Adora into action. Catra was out doing Double Trouble’s dirty work yet again, and the shapeshifter themself had just left, leaving Adora entirely on her own in the house. It presented her with the perfect opportunity to play the lizard at their own game, to discover exactly what they were up to and use it against them. She knew they were involved in some shady stuff, and if they were starting to rope Catra in, she had a responsibility to act before her best friend became entangled in a world she couldn’t escape.

Her worries about Catra had only built over the week they had been living with Double Trouble. The shapeshifter had sent her out almost daily to do various ‘jobs’ for them and, Catra’s near-silence about what that work entailed was worrying. It wasn’t, however, as worrying as the decline in her state of mind that Adora was noticing – numerous times she’d found the girl talking to herself, and their conversations were plagued by Catra’s eyes darting around the room, focusing on things that were not there. She constantly brushed off the concerns, saying she was fine, but Adora feared otherwise. Their entire lives the two of them had shared everything with each other; their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities, secrets, gossip, _everything._ Yet now Catra barely opened up to her, despite her best efforts, and the cause was obvious. The cause was Double Trouble.

A quick glance around the building satisfied her that she was truly alone, and, working on the assumption she would have five or ten minutes at the most, Adora made straight for the lizard’s bedroom. Preparing to pick the lock, a skill she’d been taught by another cadet one night when they raided the kitchen for food, it was a surprise when she found the door already unlocked and ajar. Despite the part of her that questioned why someone as enigmatic as Double Trouble would leave their room so invitingly open, the need to protect both herself and Catra won out, and she pressed on, determined to unearth their secrets. Their bedroom was immaculately decorated, with a large four-poster bed as the main focal point and solid, expensive-looking cherry wood furniture throughout. The second most obvious thing in the room was a writing desk, which practically begged Adora to investigate it. The drawers had no locks, and she rifled through those first, finding little of interest in the top two; it was the bottom drawer that held the most promising evidence. A small, unlabelled notebook was laid on top, so she pulled it out and placed it on the desk in front of her.

A list of pairs of names had been written, alongside some rather large sums of money, although most had been crossed through. Could these be the debtors Catra was constantly being sent to chase? But why the second name? And did crossing through mean they’d paid or something else...something worse? Various suggestions presented themselves to Adora, but there was little that seemed plausible. Accepting that she wouldn’t get anything further from the notebook, she returned it to the bottom drawer, scanning the rest of the room for anything else that might yield some useful information. A large tin box on top of a bookcase looked like it could offer up something helpful, but upon opening, all it contained was cash. Lots of cash. Adora had never seen that much money before, and it briefly flickered in her mind that she could steal it and take off into the wind with Catra, but now DT had their claws deep within her friend, that would be much easier said than done.

The closet was next in her investigation, Adora praying that its contents would reveal something – anything – about what the lizard was really up to. She carefully opened the heavy, polished wooden door, gasping loudly at what she was met with: it was full of weaponry, ranging in size from small blades to a large rifle with an equally sizeable scope. Everything was either easy to conceal, like the daggers, or had some form of silencing, as was the case with every single one of the dozen or so firearms. All these weapons, all designed to kill and attract as little attention as possible – she thought back to the pairs of names in the notebook and the truth began to dawn on her. One set _was_ the people that owed the shapeshifter money, the others were the targets they had been given. They were paid to kill.

“Looking for something, darling?” Double Trouble’s voice behind her made her jump and she jerked her head over her shoulder, seeing them stood in the doorway, lounging casually on the frame. She may have been caught red-handed looking through their belongings, but rather than any sense of guilt, there was only a righteous determination. She finally had something over them, and had to use it to help Catra.

“I know what you are!” Adora’s voice didn’t need to be as loud as it was, but the confrontation had her on edge. She had been put on the spot, without any time to assess how best to use her new-found knowledge, “You’re a hitman, aren’t you?”

“Oh please. Sometimes I’m a hit _woman_ ,” they quickly transformed their body into that of Adora, squinting down the scope of an imaginary rifle with their finger on the trigger, “Just a little to the left, Catra…”

The implication that she would do anything to harm her friend incensed Adora, and she began to lose her cool, roughly grabbing hold of Double Trouble’s arm as they returned their own form, “DON’T YOU DARE! I would _never_ do anything to hurt her… not like you. But now I’m going to make you stop taking advantage of her.”

“Oh, Adora,” they cackled, their mouth growing into a smirk. They knelt one leg nonchalantly on the bed, looking up at her, confident they weren’t going to be beaten, “And how exactly are you going to do that?”

Adora dragged them back up towards her, hissing a threat into their ear, “Because if you don’t leave her alone, the world is going to know what you are. They won’t want to live with an assassin in their midst.”

“I see,” DT looked for a moment as though they were taking the ultimatum seriously, tilting their head from side to side while they paced around the room, as though weighing up the advantages of agreement. After a few moments, they began to nod a little, making it appear they’d reached a decision, then slammed the bedroom door shut, startling Adora, “Counteroffer: you keep your mouth shut. I know why you’re here, Adora; I know why the Horde is after you, and all it would take is one tiny little call for the entire valley to be flooded with soldiers to take you and her back to face trial for murder. Then again, I get the impression they don’t really _do_ trials, do they?”

“You wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t I?” their hand caressed Adora’s cheek, her face inches from their own, “Darling, you have no idea what I would do. Catra is far too useful to me, why would I want to lose someone who does everything I tell her to without asking any questions? She wouldn’t say ‘no’ to any request… I wonder if she’d take you out for me?”

“Stop!” the shapeshifter’s words were getting under Adora’s skin, just as they wanted, “You’re taking advantage of her, she… she’s not well. I hear her talking to herself, and she’s always shaking; you _can’t_ do this to her.”

The lizard’s hand came away from her cheek momentarily, before smartly slapping it with force. Adora gasped, although it was more from shock than pain.

“You’re not getting it, Adora!” this was a tone of voice she’d not heard from them before. There was an impatience, an anger that they usually kept under heavy concealment; it let her know she’d riled them up, but it brought fear with it. This person killed others without any remorse, and now she was alone with them, enraged, “Let me give you one more chance to understand. I will not throw away someone as useful as Catra – you, however… you are an inconvenience, a thorn in my side, and if you continue to be such, I will rip you out and dispose of you. So here’s what’s going to happen, sweetheart: you’re going to forget everything you know about me, you’re going to stop getting between Catra and me, and you’re going to keep your mouth shut. Because if you don’t, you will have a very painful death, and Catra will spend her life as my subservient little puppet. Understood?”

Adora wanted to fight back, to stand up for herself and make clear that not even threats would prevent her looking out for Catra. But she knew Double Trouble wasn’t bluffing – they could, and would, kill her. And without her around, it would only lead to Catra becoming more embroiled in their world, taken advantage of even further without Adora to protect her. She had no other option than concession, no matter how much it pained her to give in, “Understood.”

* * *

“Genuine gold! Genuine silver!” a tall, goat-horned lady extolled the supposed qualities of the merchandise on her market stall. Various samples of jewellery and small tableware were strewn across the table she stood behind, polished to a shine to attract customers. However, it appeared that they were not quite attractive enough, with passers-by ignoring her entirely for several minutes - at least until a young, wild-haired catgirl stopped by.

“Seen something you like, my darling?”

Catra stooped to investigate a necklace, though she had little interest in buying; it was the stallholder she was after. She’d suggested to Double Trouble that she try a slightly different approach on this job, pretending to be a customer in order to lure the target away, and it had been met with an enthusiastic approval. They’d even given her tips on how to act, how to fool someone into thinking she was someone she was not, and DT had told her she was naturally gifted at it.

“How much?” she said, without looking up.

“For you, sixty.”

Catra nodded silently, as though she were genuinely considering whether that was a fair price. Then, just as Double Trouble had taught her, she backed away, ever so slightly shaking her head. Exactly as they’d predicted, the stallholder came out from behind the table and began to follow her.

“Please, miss. I can do a better price!”

That made Catra stop, turning and then beckoning the woman into a deserted backstreet. She knew this was the part of the plan most likely to fail – trying to get people away from their market stalls was a common tactic of thieves, and if the goat-lady was wise to this, she might not follow. Happily for Catra, although the woman seemed to be aware of that type of trick, it didn’t stop her moving away, stopping first to put her smaller, more expensive items in the satchel slung over her arm. If she was nervous, she wasn’t showing any sign of it.

“What price?” Catra tried to surreptitiously survey the surroundings to make sure they weren’t going to be interrupted. In almost all of her previous work for Double Trouble, things had got a little violent, and though she was easily able to handle herself, she didn’t want to be publicly known as DT’s debt collector, nor attract unwanted attention from any of the other denizens of the valley.

“I can do fifty, but that’s the lowest.”

The feline pursed her lips, staring off to the side as if in deep thought, then returned with a counteroffer, “And what can you do for Double Trouble?”

“Shit,” she lowered her head in defeat, “You’re here for _that_. Guess I’ve got no choice but to pay up.”

The woman reached into the satchel with little hurry, mumbling apology after apology. Once her hand had gripped what she was looking for, it flew towards Catra, who only just jumped back in time to avoid the business end of the blade concealed inside the fist. Her heart rate soared, and she internally scolded herself for not having been prepared for a surprise attack. The stallholder swiped again, and despite Catra’s best efforts to evade, caught her arm, ripping a deep gash through her top and the skin underneath. The stinging pain was insistent but she ignored it, ducking under the path of the next attack and wrenching the woman’s wrist as she came back up, using her own momentum against her to send her crashing to the floor. The small pocketknife clattered across the cobblestones on the ground, Catra’s agile body able to reach it before her opponent could.

“Better luck next time,” she sassed, flicking the blade open and shut, “I’ll take the money now.”

The woman got back to her feet and stared her down. Her confidence made Catra feel uneasy, and she brought the knife in front of her face as a reminder that it was her who had the upper hand. The other lady reeled back to launch a punch, but Catra anticipated the move, ducking down and automatically responding with a jab of her own to the stomach.

“Aaagghh,” she doubled over in pain, eyes of disbelief looking up at Catra, “Oh my… Fuck…”

The horned woman slowly moved her hand away from her stomach, and the blood that was revealed froze Catra to the spot. She stared at the blade in her hand, and her brain erupted with flashbacks of the last time she had held a knife, there in front of Shadow Weaver’s body. Her breathing became rapid as the stallholder’s face flickered with static, hints of red and black entering her perception as the memory of her former guardian resurfaced. She willed her legs to move, to run, but they paid no attention to the instruction, as though they were forcing her to confront what she had just done. What she had done _again._

“ _Murderer_ ,” the whispered words of Shadow Weaver came through clear as day into her mind, while shadows seemed to descend, blinding the world around her, “ _Killer_.”

“Go away!” she yelled, crumbling into a ball on the ground with her head buried in her hands. It did little to stop the chorus of abuse, “You’re not here!”

_“Was I not enough? You need to kill again?”_

She finally made the connection to her muscles, getting back to her feet and breaking into a run, going as fast as she could away from the injured woman.

_“You’re out of control, Catra.”_

Though the streets were fairly busy, she noticed no-one, the darkness that inhabited her world masking everything outside of her own head.

_“Killer!”_

Still clutching the knife, she desperately tried swiping the shadows away, but they were impenetrable.

_“If you do anything to hurt Adora…”_

Catra was begging the voices to leave her alone as she continued sprinting, moving ever forward until she collided with another person and was stopped dead in her tracks. The impact barely registered in her mind until she realised who she had clattered into.

“What’s wrong, Kitten?” Double Trouble’s voice provided a welcome alternative to Shadow Weaver’s as it fought to breach the walls of shadow around her, “Why are you running?”

“Double Trouble… they don’t… I killed…You have to... I need... They need....” she carried on wildly gesticulating with the pocketknife, only missing the shapeshifter’s chest thanks to their quick dodge. Almost being stabbed, not to mention their underling being in some sort of trance and therefore not doing any work, began to anger them. That, combined with the fact that she had likely failed to get their money manifested in a fury-fuelled punch which they only pulled back on inches from her nose, calming themself just in time. Instead, their hand opened out and stroked down her face for comfort, the touch slowly bringing her back from her hallucinations.

“Did you get my money, darling?”

Catra shook her head. The money was the last thing on her mind, thoughts of it buried deep under horrible flashbacks. Though she was more alert to her surroundings, she could still hear Shadow Weaver’s voice echoing deep inside her, and flickers of darkness in her periphery.

“That is disappointing,” their tone became less friendly, sparking Catra’s fears that they would give up and abandon her, “You failed at your task, and now you’re running at me with a knife. You’re out of control, aren’t you?”

She nodded. They were right – she’d not been able to control the memories of Shadow Weaver from taking her over, and she’d had so little awareness of herself that she’d forgotten the knife in her hand when she struck the blow to her target. When she’d…

“I need to hear you say it, Kitten. You’re out of control, _aren’t you_?”

“I-I’m…” she sniffled hard, trying to catch her breath enough to speak, “I’m out of control.”

Double Trouble brought her into a tight embrace, letting her cry into their shoulder while they flattened her hair down her back, “I know, but I’ll make it better, don’t you worry, darling. You’re better than this, you just need to do as I tell you next time and this sort of thing wouldn’t happen. I’ll make an exception this once, but do _not_ let me down again or I will have to punish you.”

“Thank… thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Kitten,” their concern was, in part, genuine. Catra was willing to do anything for them, and finding someone else that easy to manipulate would be a lot of work, “Now what else can I do to help?”

“I just want to go home to Adora.”

Adora. After trying to separate the two of them so they could keep Catra for themself, she _still_ wanted to be with her? All the subtle remarks, the constant physical separation, the demanding of Catra’s time, and Adora remained her number one priority? The girl really was obsessed, even though Adora clearly did _not_ love her back. _Wait_ … Adora didn’t love her back. Recognising that fact was like a lightbulb tuning on in Double Trouble’s head. They’d spent so much time trying to force them apart, but maybe if they forced the two of them together, the resultant clash of the different visions of their friendship could do everything they wanted without them needing to lift a finger.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. Adora really cares about you – I suppose I’ve been a little jealous, I don’t have anyone who loves me that much.”

Catra wiped a finger under her nose, smearing a mixture of snot and tears across her cheek, “You think she… she loves me?”

“I know she does,” it was hard for them to keep from smiling, they couldn’t wait to see how their new tactic would unfurl. Adora and Catra would fall out, allowing them to swoop in and take Catra for good, “I can see it every time she looks at you.”

“R-really?” if Double Trouble saw it, then maybe her fantasies weren’t so out of reach. Maybe Adora felt just as apprehensive about declaring her love as she did, and that they’d wasted so much time being afraid to tell each other how they really felt. For so long, Catra had been unsure about how Adora saw their relationship, but now, if Double Trouble thought it was romantic… The urge to get back to see her, to forget about everything that had happened that afternoon, was too strong to resist, “I need to go.”

She didn’t get far before the shapeshifter’s hand gripped her shoulder painfully tightly, “Before you go, I want you to promise me you won’t do anything like that again, because I cannot work with someone who is out of control like that, and I would have to let you go. I don’t think anyone else would see the same potential in you, would they? Promise me, Kitten.”

“I promise,” a mix of her tears and the discomfort from their vice-like grip rendered her voice whiny and high-pitched.

Double Trouble cupped a hand to their ear, squeezing her shoulder even harder as they waited for her to continue, “What do you promise?”

“I- I promise I won’t… won’t be out of control.”

“Good. Because I don’t want to have to hurt you,” they kissed the tip of her nose, finally releasing their grip, “Now, once you’ve calmed down, I know you’ll be back to your best and ready to show me your talents. I care about you, Kitten, _don’t_ throw everything I’ve done for you back in my face. Oh, and don’t tell Adora about your little… freak-out; she loves you and wants what’s best for you, but I don’t think she would understand like I do. Got it?”

* * *

“This might hurt a little,” Adora dabbed the ball of cotton wool in salt water, brought it to Catra’s arm and dabbed it gently on the wound. The feline sharply breathed in, recoiling from the pain that she had been forewarned of, “I told you, you shouldn’t trust Double Trouble. You got knifed, Catra.”

“It wasn’t anything to do with them! I was the one who let myself get distracted… OW!”

Adora pulled her hand back momentarily, allowing her friend to recover from the stinging that the salt water had inflicted, then returned to lightly dabbing at the cut, “You were working for them. Look, Catra, I’m only thinking of you, okay? I know you’re not at your best right now and I’m worried for you.”

She thought back to what Double Trouble had told her, that Adora loved her. Years of being terrified that she’d be rejected and lose the friendship meant that she had never once had the courage to tell Adora how she felt. Every time she almost managed it, there’d be something that cut her down; a joke that she wasn’t part of, a lustful glance at another cadet, Adora’s reassurance she was a good ‘friend’. But now there was something genuine in her voice, a slight difference in volume or an inflection that Catra swore she had never heard before, that made her sound almost… loving. And not in the usual way, she was certain that there was a longing behind that voice, _that worry,_ which revealed that Adora secretly held the same desire for the two of them that she did.

“I’m fine, really,” she winced again, primarily at the stinging from the wound on her arm, but in some small part from the lie she was telling. She wasn’t fine – she’d stabbed some woman and it had sent her into some kind of nightmare-like horror where Shadow Weaver was controlling the world around her. But Double Trouble had told her not to mention it, and she knew they had her best interests in mind. Besides, if Adora loved her, that would surely fix everything – she wouldn’t need to worry about all that stuff, because her best friend would make it all okay. If Adora was her girlfriend, she could get over all of this turmoil.

“You’re not fine, Catra. This is what happens when you trust Double Trouble, they’re… look, we need to get away from them. I don’t want you to get hurt like this again, okay?”

“Thanks, Adora,” Catra bit her lip, knowing that if ever there was a moment to let her friend know her true feelings, it was now. But equally, the nervousness over finally making that move, going past the point of no return, was keeping her body frozen, “You always did care about me more than everyone else.”

“You’re special to me, Catra. You know that.”

There it was. That had to be an unequivocal declaration of love, right? Adora wasn’t terribly good at communicating her feelings, she knew this, so ‘you’re special to me’ was essentially the girl’s way of affirming her undying devotion. It had to be. Armed with more confidence that they were both feeling the same way, Catra found her body moving closer almost autonomously, bringing Adora’s face ever nearer to her own. Her eyes closed as her lips found their target in those of the blonde, savouring every soft millimetre. After so long, so much tension between them, this felt so right, so perfect, so…

“Catra, what the hell?” Adora jerked backwards, leaving the feline kissing thin air. She stood up from the bed, the shock rendering her unable to find any other words. For years, she’d had a suspicion that her best friend harboured romantic feelings, but hadn’t she always made it clear that she didn’t feel the same? Every time she thought Catra was about to overstep the boundaries of their friendship, she tried to cool things down before anything was said that might permanently damage it.

Catra had no control over the tears building up and then falling from her eyes. How could she have misread things so badly? “I… I thought that was what you wanted.”

“No! No… Catra, you’re my best friend – I trust you with everything, and I’d literally die for you, but I don’t see you in… that way,” Adora tried to balance her concern for the girl with making it clear that she had crossed a line. Any other time, she would probably have launched into an angry reprimand, but she had to consider Catra’s mental state, “I can see you’ve had a difficult day, okay? I think it’s best if I leave you to sort your head out for a bit. I’ll see you later.”

“Adora!” she called frantically as the girl left their bedroom, pulling the door to behind her, “Adora! I’m sorry!”

There was no response. Catra buried her face into the bed and began to cry, thumping her hand down on the mattress in frustration. Almost involuntarily, her claws ripped at the bedding, tearing shreds of cloth across the room. This was exactly why she’d never said anything before – now she’d screwed things up completely and Adora was probably never going to talk to her again. She was about to lose the person closest to her, the person who had sacrificed so much to see her safe, and there was little she could do about it.

“I’m sorry, Adora.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter: Double Trouble gives a distraught Catra everything she wants... but it's not without a price.
> 
> (it's the sexy chapter, I always feel so awkward about writing sex scenes but whatever)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double Trouble takes advantage of a fearful Catra to give her what she wants. But it's all to further their own agenda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's the smut chapter!
> 
> Did I put this in just to see if I could write it? Sure did!  
> Did I make it uncomfortably angst-ridden and purely done to manipulate Catra? You better believe it!  
> Does it make sense in the context of the rest of the story? Kind of, actually.  
> Will I ever write smut again? Don't rule it out, I wasn't as bad as I thought.
> 
> Now while Catra consents and, importantly, knows that it is Double Trouble playing the role of Adora, there's the potential to read this as non-consensual by virtue of the fact that DT essentially takes advantage of someone with an obvious mental illness. That wasn't the intention, but I can see it as well. Also there's a bit of self-injury right at the start but not graphic and not related to the sexytimes.

Catra thumped her fist hard into the side of her head, not caring if she did any damage to herself. How could she have been so stupid? Kissing Adora like that was the worst thing she had ever done. Now she’d probably ruined everything between the two of them, “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Ouch, kitten!” Double Trouble slinked through the doorway, having been watching the two women from their room, “Rejected by the one you have an all-consuming crush on, that’s got to hurt.”

“Oh, just leave me alone, this is _your_ fault. You told me to… Look, I am not in the mood to deal with you right now.”

DT chuckled. Their plan had already gone better than they could have hoped – they hadn’t expected the girl to make a move quite that quickly. But now that she had, it was time for them to shine, “Catra, Catra… you forget who you’re talking to. You don’t have to deal with _me_ if you don’t want to. I could be _anyone_ if you just say the word, darling. Do you understand what I’m saying, Kitten?”

It took a moment, but it dawned on her what they meant. A slight nod of the young woman’s head was all it took for the shapeshifter to dissolve their form and rearrange themself in Adora’s image. Catra took a few deep breaths as she admired the person in front of her. She told herself that the figure, the soft, caring face, the curves of the body she craved… this wasn’t Double Trouble playing Adora, it _was_ Adora – she needed it to be. The rejection was much too difficult for her to even begin to comprehend, and if Adora was still here with her, then she didn’t have to. There would be no need to worry about their friendship, because Adora was still here, she still wanted her. Catra swallowed nervously and extended a trembling hand outward that was grasped lovingly – their skin even felt silky soft just like Adora’s.

“I… I…” she struggled to speak, overwhelmed by the realisation of her dreams, but Double Trouble let her know any words were unnecessary by way of placing a finger on the girl’s lips. She automatically kissed it, telling herself that it was the taste of Adora she was experiencing.

“I want you, Catra. I always have,” _Fuck._ Their voice was perfect. Catra could feel the emotion soar inside her – the need for Adora to love her, the desperation for someone to hold her, the obsession with making sure Adora wanted only _her_. It built to a crescendo and she crumbled to her lust, wrapping her lips around Double- no, around _Adora’s._ Their kiss was rough, Catra pushing forward as she wanted more and more, while Double Trouble refused to concede an inch while they gave her what they knew she needed.

“Adora...”

“I’ve got you, Catra. I love you.”

The last sentence impacted Catra in a way she had never felt before, almost physically knocking her backwards. How could three little words in Adora’s voice make her feel so small, so complete, so _desperate._ She had been wanting this moment for so long, and now being able to have Adora for herself was within her reach. Everything about this situation she had ever imagined ran through her mind, and it manifested as a knot in her stomach and a pleasurable discomfort between her legs that could only be fixed by Adora’s touch. As if they could read her thoughts, Double Trouble pushed Catra down onto the bed, crouching over her and staring deep into her eyes. Those eyes told them everything they needed to know about what Catra wanted, and they leaned forward to kiss her again while one leg slid up between those of the catgirl, pushing the shredded bedclothes aside along its journey.

“Fuck, Adora…” the last thoughts about how it was just a fraud, a facsimile of the girl she wanted, left her head. _Adora_ was kissing her. _Adora’s_ hand was sliding up underneath her shirt, discovering she had no bra on and tenderly caressing her breast. _Adora_ wanted her.

“That’s it, Catra,” Double Trouble broke the kiss, one of their hands tugging at the waistband of her leggings, pulling them fully free of her body, “You want me, don’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

“You _need_ me, don’t you?”

She closed her eyes as the cooler air of the room hit her newly exposed legs. This was already feeling like heaven, and every inch of her body was bubbling with the anticipation of what could happen next, what it felt like _was_ going to happen next, “I need you, Adora.”

“How much do you need me?” Double Trouble was intent on getting the most out of their new role, inviting Catra to give them the praise they felt their portrayal of Adora deserved. Her answer was not spoken, instead she responded by taking hold of the hand that had previously removed her clothes and placing it between her legs. The Adora on top of her raised her eyebrows as Double Trouble felt the effects of their masterful performance in the slick wetness that had already soaked through her underwear, “That much, huh?”

“Mmmh,” was all she could say, the touch of the hand against her most intimate parts crackling arcs of electricity through her, even through the fabric. Every nerve ending in her body was turned up to maximum, sending messages of pleasure to her brain at the slightest brush of a hand, a leg, even a piece of clothing. The same hand gently gripped her underwear and pulled downwards, rendering Catra’s lower half complete bare, with the intersection of her legs practically screaming in Double Trouble’s ear for attention.

The shapeshifter briefly lost their focus on the plan, becoming intoxicated by the scent of an aroused Catra. They indulged their own desire, shuffling their legs back to give themself room to bend forward and running their tongue across her sex, eliciting a loud, impatient moan from the catgirl as her back arched up. Closing their eyes as they savoured the warm, honeyed taste, Double Trouble allowed themself a moment to take in the eroticism of the moment, the ecstasy their partner was enjoying underneath them, the smell of sex filling the room. It was followed by a sense of guilt that flowed from the battle between the reason why they were doing this and their own need for pleasure. This was business, no matter how much it stirred up their own arousal – they could take care of that after – and they had a job to do.

“You like that, Catra?” they purred in a low voice. Catra had never heard that sultry tone from Adora before and every syllable drove her wild. Every hard consonant was another bolt of electricity that went straight through her, uncontrollably making her buck her hips, as if they were trying to get closer to that incredible tongue for another touch of heaven.

She panted several times before her breath calmed enough to let her speak, “Again…”

A sly grin painted across her partner’s face, and they eagerly stuck their tongue out, heading back down between her thighs. But this time Double Trouble was not going to get carried away – they stopped, inches from her body, then brought their face back up towards Catra’s. For their plan to work, she needed reminding who was doing this for her; she had to believe that this Adora wanted her, “I have a better idea.”

The desperate moan that escaped her mouth at having her pleasure thwarted was more akin to a whimper. In her mind, there could be nothing better than having Adora’s tongue dance across her, taking her to new heights of rapture with every raw, messy lick at her burning body, “N…no, I need…”

“What you need, Catra, is to look deep into my eyes while I _fuck_ you,” they punctuated the word with two fingers slipping easily inside her, the euphoric scream that resulted giving the shapeshifter an indication of just how much she needed it. Catra opened her eyes again, wanting to see her lover’s face. She had to prove to herself that she wasn’t wrong, that kissing Adora wasn’t a mistake, that Adora loved her enough to do this. It was Adora whose fingers were starting to penetrate her in the perfect rhythm, deftly brushing upwards to hit the centre of her pleasure. It was Adora who knew exactly where to touch her to drive her wild. Adora’s hand working at the most sensitive parts around her nipple. Adora making her desire build. Adora was hers. Adora wanted her. Adora had her. Adora. Adora! Adora! Adora!

“Adoraaaaa....oh god, fuck. Ohh...”

She felt herself let go, instinctively pulling her partner towards her and linking their mouths in another kiss as her entire being crumbled into wave after wave of orgasm. Every inch of the body – _Adora’s body_ – pressed against her own gave her one more reason to ride it out for as long as she could. She was swamped by the feeling harder than she’d even been before, such was the difference that actually having Adora to herself made. Fantasising about her, as she’d done in so many private moments before, was adequate for getting herself off on her own, but to be lying here with Adora on top of her at last… that was something incredible. Their first time together was beyond anything she had ever imagined.

“Oh God, Adora,” every part of her buzzed as they broke apart, her breathing still heavy, “I love you. God, I love you.”

Her lover smirked, sitting upright astride her and casting an eye to the soaked bedclothes between Catra’s legs, “I think you needed that, didn’t you?”

She nodded rapidly, her ability to form words severely limited as she floated on the pleasure high. Right now, nothing was wrong. The woman she loved was there with her, staring into her eyes lovingly after giving her the greatest sex of her life. It was not to last long, however, as Adora climbed off the bed, stretching as she stood upright.

Catra grasped her wrist, desperate to hold onto the feeling, “Stay with me.”

“I guess I could stay a little while – just for you. But it won’t be long, you know I’m a very busy person. Still, this was fun – let’s do it again sometime, kitten.”

_Kitten?_

_Double Trouble._

Maybe the fact that it wasn’t really Adora with her had been buried somewhere deep inside, or maybe it had been cast aside entirely. But the reminder that Double Trouble had just been playing a role, _faking it,_ brought tears to her eyes. It was all a lie – the sex, the declaration of love, the comfort of knowing that someone wanted her. None of it was real. She pushed them off her, the anger at DT and herself boiling over, “GET OUT!”

“Kitten…”

“OUT!” she roared, tears streaming down her face. She had let Double Trouble take advantage of her vulnerability, her desperation for Adora, and now they had this as leverage over her. They transformed back to their own form right in front of her, an act which was the last straw for Catra. She frantically lashed out, swiping with claws anywhere she could and ripping the shoulder of the shapeshifter’s bodysuit in the process.

Though the raw emotional reaction was one of the highest forms of praise they could have received, Double Trouble still felt a pang of guilt at contributing to her anguish. They’d guessed that becoming Adora to have sex with Catra would have messed with her head, that was the plan after all, but now they were wondering if they’d taken it too far – possibly even foiled their own plot to get the two of them closer. But they couldn’t help but admire that level of manipulation, the power of sex, it was so formidable and compelling. In less than ten minutes, they had taken Catra from despair to ecstasy to, regrettably, wrath, with methods that could not have been achieved by them transforming into Adora alone. The intimacy was key, linking them to Catra in a deeper way than ever before, as evidenced by her powerful emotional reaction. They just hoped that would be enough to overcome the girl’s initial regret and result in her forgiveness.

Double Trouble inhaled as if to start speaking, but thought better of arguing their corner, turning towards the door and leaving Catra alone. She laid on the bed, still naked from the waist down, and sobbed quietly at her own idiocy. It had all seemed so perfect, finally having Adora all to herself and acting out the fantasies she’d held for years, but that perfection had been torn away from her. Snatched from her grasp by the harsh reality that Double Trouble had forced upon her: Adora would never love her back.

“Well what did you expect?”

Catra’s eyes shot open again as Shadow Weaver’s silhouette moved across the room towards her. She scrambled to her knees, retreating in fear, “Get away from me!”

“I mean, talk about pathetic. Look at you, half dressed like a whore. Crying because the only love you can get is a lie.”

“No! You’re not here! You...you’re dead.”

The shadow swept through her eyeline, chastising her with vitriolic words, “Because you killed me, Catra! And for what? Did you think it would make Adora love you? Pathetic!”

She screwed her eyes up, praying that it would get rid of the woman. These horrible rebukes, this mental torture, it was all supposed to have gone away the moment that knife entered her body. Right now, Catra was supposed to be living a life free of fear, without any worry of what Shadow Weaver would think, but instead the witch was still there with her. She didn’t even know if it was real or all in her head anymore, and it probably didn’t matter. There was never going to be any escape, “What do you want? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“What do I want? What do _you_ want, Catra? You’re laid on a bed half-naked and in tears, because you think you deserve more than fake love. You don’t. And yet you threw away the only love you’ll ever manage to get, yelled at it to leave and hit out at it because you wanted something you’ll never have. _That_ Adora is as good as you’ll get, Catra."

Catra slowly started nodding. Much as she hated to admit it, Shadow Weaver was right – she would never be able to have the real Adora, so wasn’t Double Trouble better than nothing? Their portrayal of her was so accurate that they were indistinguishable from the real thing, from appearance to voice to manner; it was everything Catra wanted. Maybe she was wrong to have reacted the way she did, to have given them nothing in the way of thanks but her anger. Maybe it wasn’t too late to make amends.

“I need to talk to DT,” she swivelled her body round to put her feet on the floor, grabbing her leggings and putting them on, without even noticing she had them inside out. The thoughts of Shadow Weaver were pushed to one side as she hurried to the hallway, making the short journey along the corridor to the shapeshifter’s bedroom. The door was ajar, so Catra knocked a couple of times as a courtesy before pushing on in without waiting for an answer.

“Come to yell at me some more?” Double Trouble had sensed her approach, hurriedly sitting up on their bed and bringing their knees up to hide their unbuttoned bodysuit, like a teenager whose parent had just walked in on them, “Honestly, kitten, it’s worth it to have the knowledge that I could elicit such a reaction; I must have really nailed Adora. Well, and you.”

She let out a tiny laugh, “That you did. Look, I’m sorry, DT, you just got under my skin with Adora back up there.”

“I get under everyone’s skin, that’s what I do. I don’t just look like another person; I become them, become one with their emotions, their hopes and fears, their very being. It’s my gift, darling.”

Catra stepped forward, sitting down next to them with her head resting on their shoulder. The unexpected tenderness was confusing to Double Trouble – they thought they had Catra’s character figured out, but this was not what they predicted she would do, certainly not mere minutes after angrily throwing them out of her room. Had their manipulation worked this soon, or was Catra trying to get back at them somehow? Either way, this wasn’t something they were going to question. If the girl wanted to be close to them again, who were they to argue?

“I’d say you’re pretty gifted in other ways too. Can... Can you do that again? Like, _be_ Adora?”

The shapeshifter started back, but their surprise quickly gave way to more devious thoughts. This could be beneficial for the both of them, “You want me to?”

She nodded, a repentant smile on her face. Catra feared that she may already have ruined this one chance at happiness, the opportunity to be loved by Adora, and even if it was merely Double Trouble in Adora’s role, it would still make her happy. They were perfect, matching every inch of her appearance, the tone of her voice and the way she cared about Catra – not to mention the exact realisation of every sexual fantasy she’d had about Adora. There was little difference in her mind.

“For you, kitten, I’d do anything,” their hand crept up the inside of her leg, “It’s only fair. You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

Catra swallowed hard, tensing up at the touch. It wasn’t Adora’s this time, but it didn’t matter to her needy body. All she could do was nod, shuddering as the lizard’s hand found its way beneath her clothes once more, every point of contact feeling like an electric shock.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I… I would do a-anything.”

Double Trouble started to gently massage with their fingers, paying close attention to the spots that made Catra’s body jerk uncontrollably when they were brushed against. Within seconds, they could feel their hand become coated in the girl’s fluids, and any friction that remained was gone. 

“You wouldn’t say no to me, would you?”

The growing pressure between her thighs left Catra unable to form words, but she shook her head to reinforce what she was trying to say, “Nuh-uh... ohhh.”

The shapeshifter could hear her breaths becoming shorter and heavier and that meant they had her exactly where they wanted. They slowed the pace of their stimulation to keep Catra going just a little longer, “Good girl. Now there’s one tiny little thing you need to do for me, just a small job that means that you and I can be together.”

“Wh..what?”

“Kill her. Kill Adora.”

“I… I can’t,” Catra desperately tried to control her breathing, fearing the implication of what it would mean to lose herself to orgasm at those words. She held no enjoyment at the idea of Adora’s death, and wouldn’t give Double Trouble the satisfaction of a pleasured response to it, no matter how much effort it was taking to keep from going over the edge. To do otherwise would be horrible, she wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – get off to the thought of murdering her best friend.

“Oh, I think…”

Double Trouble’s free hand tenderly touched her cheek.

“…you…”

Their face came closer to her own, determination in their eyes.

“…can…”

Catra could feel the shapeshifter’s warm breath tickling her ear as they whispered seductively.

“… kitten.”

She tried to hold on again, but their low, lustful voice and the dance of the shapeshifter’s nimble fingers proved too much to resist. A piercing animalistic scream escaped her mouth as she came, and she was unable to do anything to prevent it engulfing her. Pure rapture flowed through her veins, making every nerve ending of every inch of skin fizzle with the carnal desire that had taken over her mind. Thoughts of Adora, of running away, of doing jobs for Double Trouble, were all pushed out as the endorphins rushed into her brain. There was only the utter bliss that resulted from the touch against her sensitive body.

“I can be the Adora that wants you,” they called out in a tone that mirrored her ecstasy, their fingers refusing to let up and sending the young woman into what felt like a higher plane of existence with every new wave , “I can be the Adora that loves you. The Adora that needs you. I can be _everything_ you want, Catra. KILL HER!”

Her back arched and she convulsed uncontrollably as the line between pleasure and discomfort blurred. It felt as though she couldn’t handle any more, yet she craved Double Trouble’s fingers triggering off every buck of her hips with their electric touch. Her body needed to stop; her mind needed to continue.

“Yes!” she yelled at the top of her voice, every muscle tensed up to what felt like a breaking point, “I’ll do it!”

Finally, Double Trouble eased off, withdrawing their hand from between her legs and calmly tasting Catra as they licked their fingers clean. The catgirl collapsed back onto the bed, struggling to catch her breath as her body twitched in its afterglow. She had never felt an orgasm like that, she was buzzing from her core to the ends of her fingers and toes and it was incredible. As her senses slowly returned, she opened her eyes to see the shapeshifter standing over her.

“That ‘yes’ was all I was waiting for, Kitten,” they had the same, slightly condescending tone of voice, that the Force Captains often used to tell her off with, “I’m glad you saw sense.”

“Uhwuhhhhh,” Catra’s voice failed her, the high she was on stopping her muscles from working properly to move her mouth.

Double Trouble shushed her, pressing a finger to her lips that she impulsively licked to get a faint taste of the sweetness of her own juices. They weren’t going to give her time to think, choosing to press on with the next stage of their plan almost immediately, “I have everything prepared for you, darling. When you retire to your room tonight, you will find a knife in the drawer next to your bed. Wait for Adora to fall asleep, I shall help you with that by adding a little something into her evening meal. Once she is sleeping, you will take that knife and use it to end her life. Do you understand?”

She didn’t, not really. Coming down from the most intense climax of her life had left her unable to truly grasp what the shapeshifter was telling her, the sound of their voice feeling muffled and distant, while her brain failed to process the gravity of their words. She would have given the same weary nod to a request to make a cup of tea as she did to the request to kill her lifelong best friend.

“No, uh-uh, kitten. I want to hear you say it.”

Catra concentrated hard, trying to force every bit of effort into being able to speak. She still didn’t fully comprehend what she was agreeing to, but the fear of letting Double Trouble down loomed heavily over her. If she failed them again, she would be truly alone forever, “I… I under- understand.”

A grin spread across Double Trouble’s face. Everything was falling into place – soon Adora would be gone for good, no longer trying to poke her nose into their business, and Catra would be theirs to use as they saw fit. All they had to do was get into character as Adora and she would do anything they wanted her to. Catra was willing to go to great lengths to please them, willing to resort to violence to get money out of their debtors, even willing to kill. The sex would just be a bonus.

“Good girl,” they transformed into Adora to punctuate their words, a deliberate attempt to remind her of what she would gain from the death of the real Adora. Bringing their face close, they placed one of the blonde’s hands against her cheek, “You’re mine, aren’t you Catra?”

“I... I’m yours, A- Adora.”

“Perfect, kitten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't too bad, right? It's always tricky to get that balance between being overly scientific and throwing every slang term for genitals around.
> 
> In the next chapter: Can Catra go through with it? We'll find out...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the moment for murder draws near, Catra struggles with her mistakes and regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like happy, fluffy stories? Because this is NOT one of them, I have put our little bastard cat through so much and it's not stopping. Also I feel like I've done DT dirty, because they would not be this much of a garbage person but hey, it's all fiction.
> 
> Here's a bit list of content warnings for this chapter: Psychological abuse, physical abuse, gaslighting, references to past abuse, references to murder, knives, suicidal thoughts and actions.
> 
> Yeah, it's one of *those*.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Catra’s anxiety grew, sparking a growing silence which worried Adora. When she tried to pry into the change in Catra’s whole demeanour, the girl closed up entirely, and Adora wasn’t totally sure it was down to the feline’s mis-step earlier in the day – something else was amiss. She had already begun to regret the way she handled Catra’s attempt to kiss her, the shouting and running out was more a product of shock than disgust – she didn’t find the idea of kissing Catra totally abhorrent, but they were more like sisters than girlfriends, and Adora didn’t want to disrupt that relationship. Sadly, she worried that she had already done so.

In Catra’s head, however, it was angst over Double Trouble’s plan that was the fuel for the inner turmoil which gave rise to her vacant manner. It was all happening so fast, it felt as though she hadn’t even had time to properly mull it over – that was by design, DT knew exactly what they were doing, and that rushing the girl into killing Adora was the way to guarantee that she wouldn’t think too hard about it and change her mind. The shapeshifter had also been deliberately vague about the contents of their plan. All they had told Catra was that they were going to drug Adora’s food so she would fall asleep, and that she was to use a knife that would be left in the drawer by her bed. Beyond that, the rest of the plot was known only to them, and Catra was reluctant to ask any more questions in case she annoyed them.

As a result of all this, the conversation over the dinner table that evening was stilted and cold. Adora and Double Trouble rarely communicated any more than they needed to at the best of times; it was no secret that they didn’t like each other. Catra, too, said little, restrained to silence by a mind that seemed to be both blank and overrun with thoughts simultaneously. There was something inside her that wanted to give it all away, grab Adora’s plate and throw it away while she revealed what Double Trouble had done to it, but her fears quelled that urge. The thought of being abandoned by everyone was terrifying for her and staying silent meant that she would at least have DT’s version of Adora – speaking up could mean she lost them both.

She hadn’t seen what Double Trouble had done to her friend’s food. She didn’t want to witness it – it would make what she was going to do seem that much more real – but she knew. It was clear from the way Adora yawned as she ate, the way that her eyelids looked heavier and her body slumped just a little more with each mouthful, the empty look on her face. Seeing that it had started, that the plan was already in motion, only added to the pressure Catra felt to continue on. She had to do it, had to prove herself to Double Trouble. Show them that she was worthy of Adora’s love.

It wasn’t long after they had finished, just as Catra cleared away the final dish from the table and sat down, that Adora took to her feet, unsteady in her drowsiness, her yawn reflexively mirrored by the feline. She could barely focus on the other two as she spoke to them, slurring her words, “I’m really tired, so I’m calling it a night. I need to sleep…”

Catra looked over at DT, trying to fight off the thought that it would likely be the last thing Adora ever said to her – at least _that_ version of Adora. The shapeshifter shot back with a nod of approval and a smile of encouragement: _you can do it, darling._ Trembling with nerves, Catra rose from her chair less than a minute later. She had to carry out the plan, no matter what – it was what DT wanted. At the first sign of her movement, Double Trouble raised a hand, “Not yet, Kitten. You must wait for her to be sleeping, I made that very clear.”

The stern tone of voice made Catra’s anxiety flare. She had been so eager to please them, to show initiative, that she had forgotten what they had said. They were disappointed, and it was her fault, which she knew could only lead to a telling off. Her voice became flushed with desperation, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Apology accepted, darling. I know you are excited to have Adora love you for the rest of your life, but you need to do as I say or you will be alone. You understand, don’t you?”

She nodded meekly. Even the mere thought of letting Double Trouble down and being alone forever scared her – she wanted Adora more than anything, and the shapeshifter held the only key to getting that. If she failed them, they would abandon her to a life without a purpose, a life without a home, a life without Adora.

Double Trouble closed their eyes and inhaled dramatically, “What have I told you _over_ and _over_ again, Kitten? When I ask you a question, I need to hear a response.”

“Sorry, I… I understand,” Catra’s face contorted in an attempt to stop herself from crying. It felt as though everything she did, she was making mistake after mistake. What if she messed the plan up too?

“I know you’re just nervous, but don’t forget that I believe in you, don’t I? And I’m the only one who does, so please do better not to let me down in future,” the shapeshifter was struck by how simple it was to bend the girl to their will and, in any case, they rather enjoyed playing their mind games with her, “I’ll tell you what, I will let you make it up to me. Fetch me some tea, with milk and one sugar.”

She sprinted out of the room, desperate to atone for her error by carrying out their command as quickly as possible. Making tea was something she could do – they didn’t have hot drinks like that in the Fright Zone, but she had learnt quickly during her time living with the shapeshifter, and every time she had made a drink for them, they had told her how skilled she was at it. When the tea was ready, Catra carefully balanced the cup and saucer in her hand with a slightly renewed confidence, carried it into and across the room to place it on a small side table next to where Double Trouble sat. They picked it up and gingerly slurped at the liquid inside, pausing briefly as if tasting a fine wine, then placed the cup back on its saucer and beckoned Catra closer.

“Come here, Kitten,” they called her ever nearer until she was stooped over the chair in which they sat, “I taste sugar.”

The feline quivered. She thought they had asked for it, but now she couldn’t be sure. Was her memory playing tricks again? Catra tried casting her mind back to a few minutes before, clearly remembering the phrase ‘milk and one sugar’… but maybe that was wrong, “I… I thought you asked for-”

She was cut short by a hard slap to the face, her cheek erupting with a stinging pain. Double Trouble wore a look of anger she had never seen, and it was accompanied by a low, irate voice that was intended to rebuke without being so loud that it disturbed Adora, “Don’t lie to me! I know what I asked for!”

Catra’s previous burst of self-belief crumbled away as the waterworks started, and she looked intently at Double Trouble through tear-lined eyes, her face a picture of fear. They had never been violent before like that, and the fact that they’d just hit her served only to underscore the severity of how badly she was letting them down, “I’m… I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Is this too much for you, Kitten? Can you not do what I ask of you? I would understand, you know; I would understand that you would much rather be alone for the rest of your life than spend it doing a few small jobs for me in return for Adora’s love.”

“N-no, I can…” her chest shuddered as she tried to control her crying, “I can do what you need, I just… I just made so many mistakes.”

Double Trouble’s mood seemed to shift as suddenly as their appearance could, the stern, disciplinary tone being replaced with a smile and a gentle caress of the cheek they had struck not a minute before. They lightly wiped the tears from under her eye, “I know, darling, I know. You’re capable of great things, I’ve always seen the potential inside you. But you need to concentrate more, don’t you? Be more careful and _listen_ to what I tell you to do, okay?”

“Oh… okay.”

“Very good, kitten. Now I believe the time to act is upon us, you may go. And do ensure that you don’t leave your room until morning.”

* * *

The bedroom was dark, but Catra’s night vision was reasonable enough to be able to avoid the furniture. In any case, she was getting used to the layout of the bedroom she and Adora shared, and it was not difficult to navigate around her sleeping friend’s bed and go towards her own. She sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning forward and pulling the drawer of her bedside table out slowly, as though its contents were going to jump out suddenly. With increasing awareness that her entire body was now shaking, Catra peered into the drawer through the small gap she had made – there it was. A knife.

Just the sight of it made her gasp, the way the tiny sliver of moonlight through the window highlighted imperfections in the blade as it reflected up towards her eyes. The sharp point of the weapon looked pristine, as if it had never been used before, its entire existence revolving around this moment. Maybe it did, it wasn’t exactly unlikely that Double Trouble had procured a new knife just for this. Catra opened the drawer further, gradually wrapping her hand around the handle, a basic rounded steel affair for what was in all likelihood a generic cook’s knife, almost exactly like the one that she had murdered Shadow Weaver with.

Holding up the blade in front of her eyes, she could see just how deadly a weapon it was. Curiosity got the better of her, and she hesitantly moved a finger up to the tip, dabbing it delicately on top to feel the point. It was sharper than Catra expected, and she flinched as the blade pierced through her skin, wrenching her finger away and sucking hard on it to relieve the pain. She could taste blood, an indication of what sort of damage the knife could do – with more force behind it, it would be lethal.

She lay back on her bed, needing a short pause to try and rally herself. It was so close to the moment she had been dreading and anticipating in equal measure, and Catra still wasn’t quite prepared. Hoping that taking a minute out would be the way to calm her racing mind and ready it for what she was about to do, she tried to convince herself she could do it.

_You’ve got this, Catra. Adora will love you forever if you do this._

It could have been a few seconds, a few minutes or an hour later when Catra sat up again, her hand still clutched around the knife. Everything around her was swamped in an odd stillness, as though the moment was outside of time, the small room a bubble separated from the rest of the universe. She swivelled around to plant her feet on the floor, but even as the messages coming up from the nerves on her soles told her she had made contact, Catra felt disconnected, like she was floating. It didn’t feel real – and maybe that was a good thing right now, maybe if it was real, she would be having second thoughts. Seemingly gliding across the bare wood underfoot, she pulled at Adora’s shoulder to roll her over onto her back, screaming loudly when she was met not with the face of her friend, but the red and black mask of her former guardian. Shadow Weaver’s eyes shot open to white, glaring through her.

“What are you… where’s Adora… what…?” Catra dissolved into a panicked rambling. What happened to Adora? Why was Shadow Weaver here _again_? Her thoughts overloaded with questions, trying to find any form of reason as to what she was seeing.

“Is this what you do?” the woman sat upright, her stare not moving from the feline, whose face was beset with fright, “Something gets a bit difficult for you to handle so you kill? You’re going to murder Adora like you murdered me, aren’t you?”

Desperation came to the forefront of Catra’s mind. Whatever this was – real, imagined, it didn’t matter – she needed it to stop, “Why are you here? Please, I need you to go…”

“Oh, Catra, you still don’t get it, do you? I’m never going, not until you do.”

“W… what do you mean ‘until I do’?”

Shadow Weaver cradled the side of Catra’s face in one hand, running it down her face and gently playing with the lighter tufts of fur that framed her face. Now, as it always had, the old woman’s touch froze her body in fear, despite her brain’s frantic screaming for her to run. She’d never been able to run when we she needed to; if it wasn’t Shadow Weaver’s dark magic that held Catra in place, it was her own muscles betraying her at the worst possible moment. Time after time, she’d stood, petrified, in harm’s way, and this was no different.

“I’m not surprised you don’t understand,” she explained, using the low, silky voice that often preceded an explosion of anger, “You’re not as bright as Adora. But you pretended, didn’t you? You thought that a smart mouth would cover up your lack of skill as cadet, but all you did was get in the way, jeopardising _Adora’s_ future.”

“S… so? Didn’t you get enough revenge on me when you were alive? If anyone screwed over Adora’s future, it was you,” this time Catra’s ‘smart mouth’ was acting as an attempt to cover up her terror. In part, it worked, giving her a shot of confidence as the things she had needed to say for a long time came forth, “Was her spending hours having to comfort me part of her future? Did she need to learn what it was like to be torn between her best friend and her guardian, trying and failing to do her best for both? Was it an important part of her training to need to attend to the wounds you gave me? Why?! Why did you hate me?!”

She hadn’t realised she was shouting by the end of it. There was something cathartic about finally standing up to Shadow Weaver, even if it was just… Catra didn’t know what this was, probably some form of hallucination? Maybe remnants of the woman’s dark magic manifesting in her likeness? Was she even here – was it a dream or had something gone traumatically wrong and this was her brain trying to make sense of her last moments? She was certain that Shadow Weaver was dead – she’d never be able to purge that image from her mind. Maybe that was the problem.

Catra’s rapid breathing was the only sound in the room, and her former guardian waited for it to calm a little more before she spoke, softly as she always did, “I didn’t hate you Catra. Maybe I resented so often having to keep you in line, but you were out of control, weren’t you? I didn’t want to have to punish you, but it was necessary sometimes.”

_Out of control._ That’s what Double Trouble had said earlier, too. Catra began to wonder if that were all she ever would be – a person who destroys every relationship because she can’t control herself. Shadow Weaver, the closest thing she’d ever had to a mother, had no choice but to hurt her because she was ‘out of control’. Adora, the person who stuck by her through thick and thin, ran off because she was ‘out of control. And Double Trouble had already put her on a last warning; it would only be a matter of time before they were leaving her on her own too.

It was so difficult to change, to control herself, because Catra wasn’t the type of person to notice what she was doing until it was too late. She’d always been like that, letting her strong emotions dictate her actions without ever stopping to think; it wasn’t that she didn’t want to consider the consequences, her brain just didn’t work that way until after she had acted on her impulses. Then it brought the overwhelming guilt and regret. Countless times back in the Fright Zone her anger had taken her over and spurred her to lash out, injuring others or destroying things – it was as though she was on autopilot. And although she’d not been angry this time, it was a different emotion that had consumed her over the last twenty-four hours. Love? It could have been, though Catra began to wonder if she knew what that was at all. But this feeling had dictated her actions – kissing Adora, having sex with Double Trouble, agreeing to kill Adora… and it was only now, only as Shadow Weaver berated her, that she started to realise what she was doing.

It was too late though; she was too far into this to ever stop. Catra couldn’t let the old woman see her resolve wavering – showing weakness got her hurt – and she huffed a deep, angry breath, “No. You’re not going to stop me, you’re not going to do this to me again. I have to do this.”

“Why? Do you really need Adora out of your life that badly because of one mistake? You can’t get over this unrequited crush, so your only option is to kill? Come on, Catra...”

“I need to do this _because_ I want Adora. Double Trouble s-”

“Ahh, Double Trouble…” she cut the girl off with a tuneful, slightly nonchalant enunciation of the shapeshifter’s name, “They’re not your friend, Catra; not your lover. Although it doesn’t surprise me that you don’t see what’s happening.”

“W-what do you mean? What’s happening?”

Shadow Weaver let out a loud cackle that startled the girl, “Oh, the irony. Catra, you go off on a rant about the way I treated you, yet you don’t realise Double Trouble is doing the same. You really are a stupid little girl.”

“No! Double Trouble is _nothing_ like you! They see what I’m capable of, something you never did!”

Even as she protested, something deep in Catra’s mind wondered if Shadow Weaver was right. As a result, it wasn’t a revelation to hear the woman lay it out in plain words. It felt as though she was being told something she’d known all along, “Double Trouble is abusing you, Catra.”

The feline’s head starting shaking, trying to throw those words out. Just the suggestion had made her eyes well up; she was too far into this, too enmeshed in the shapeshifter’s world, to have it all come crashing down. If what Shadow Weaver was saying was true, then Catra was trapped in a dire situation that she had thrown herself into without seeing the truth.

“Can’t you see their mind games?” Shadow Weaver continued, becoming more animated, almost taking delight in the fact that Catra’s world was shattering before her, “They take advantage of you, they force you to bend to their will. And did they not hurt you earlier?”

“I was… I was… I made a mistake,” tears now streamed down her face as she tried to fight the reality. It was bad enough that DT’s true nature was dawning on her, the fact that it was _Shadow Weaver_ of all people who was pointing it out was downright unbearable.

“No, you didn’t. You _know_ you didn’t. Double Trouble is bad for you, Catra, and it’s disappointing that you haven’t seen it. What would it have taken for you to realise, had I not told you? Would you have spent your life at the mercy of their manipulation? Would you have accepted them hitting you when they felt like it? What would it have taken, Catra?!”

The feline buried her head in her hands, pressing hard against her face, “No… no…”

“Would you have let them transform into Adora to force you into whatever horrible thing they wanted you to do? Lie to you for the rest of your life? At what point would you have said ‘enough is enough’? Will you always be such a _victim_ , Catra?”

“No, no no, I…”

“You have a choice, Catra. If you want to stay with Double Trouble, have them take advantage of you day after day, then go ahead, kill Adora. I won’t stop you, but I won’t ever be gone from inside you. Or, if you want to do the right thing; if you want me to be gone for good, then you put that knife to better use when you wake up.”

“Wake up? What do you mean, I’m…? I’m awake, aren’t I?”

Without answering, waves of darkness billowed out from Shadow Weaver’s body, enveloping Catra in a shadow that blocked her vision of the room entirely. Every one of her senses was stolen from her, her brain giving her no indication of sight, sound or even whether she was still stood on the floor. It felt as though she were suspended in a void, a blank dimension of nothingness. When it finally dissipated, Catra found herself laid upon her bed, the knife still firmly gripped in her fist. Gasping to regain her breath, she shot upright and gazed across to the other bed where Adora lay sleeping, blissfully unaware of what was supposed to happen.

_If you want me to be gone, put that knife to better use when you wake up._

Shadow Weaver’s words rang throughout Catra’s head. It would be so easy. She wouldn’t have to deal with Adora’s rejection, Double Trouble’s mistreatment and, most of all, the memories of Shadow Weaver. All it would take was a few slashes of the weapon in her hand for her to finally be free of all her problems. Catra placed the flat of the blade across her arm, the cold metal bringing goosebumps to her skin, and started an internal debate over the length of the future she had left ahead of her. The draw of peace, of freedom from the mistakes she had made and the regrets she had, was so enticing. Why would she want to carry on to face up to the irreversible mess she had made of her life?

On the other hand, there were so many little reasons why she shouldn’t. It was going to hurt, wasn’t it? Catra winced at the mere imagining of the sharp blade pressed down as it sliced through skin, every muscle in her body tensing up as even the thought of it started to make her feel light-headed. That was the biggest obstacle she would need to overcome. And death was so final – she’d have to be certain that there was no escape from Double Trouble.

Then there was Adora. Could she really let the girl slumbering next to her wake up in the morning to her best friend’s body laying upon blood-stained sheets? It would be the worst kind of shock, especially upon realising it had happened right next to her while she slept peacefully. And Adora would feel so guilty, especially after what happened earlier. Catra tried to imagine what would be going through Adora’s mind as she made the link between the reaction to the kiss and actually seeing her dead. She’d blame herself for her friend’s suicide, wouldn’t she? And despite everything, despite Double Trouble, despite overstepping the boundaries of their friendship… despite Shadow Weaver, Catra still cared for Adora. She wouldn’t inflict that horror upon her.

Even so, Catra had begun to realise that she couldn’t continue on as she was. Running from the Horde, trying to carve out a new life away from her past, it all seemed so pointless now. There was no distance she could run that would be far enough to purge the memories and visions of Shadow Weaver from her head. No amount of time that could pass to reduce the guilt she felt. And nothing she could do to change who she was, to stop her diving into horrible situation after horrible situation. It was futile. Catra placed the knife back into the drawer she had taken it from, rummaging her hand around until she found what she was looking for – a pen. There was also a small pad of paper on the desk in their room, which she sat down in front of and began to write.

_Dear Adora,_

_When you read this, I will be gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next (and final!) chapter: Adora faces a race against time to save her best friend.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora finds Catra's letter, spurring her into action. Can she save her best friend before it's too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the climax of the story, I have written and written - so much so that this is almost twice as long as the other chapters, but hopefully worth it. And I hope that you cry half as much as I did writing it >.>
> 
> I have written two different endings - one where Catra survives and one where she doesn't. You can read the one you like best, or read them both (they are about 80% the same though). This one is my original plan, where she doesn't make it - go to the next chapter for the one where she does.
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter are unsurprisingly numerous: suicidal behaviour and thoughts, descriptions of abuse, strong bloody violence and injury. I think that's it.

_Dear Adora,_

_When you read this, I will be gone._

_For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you into this, sorry I made you run from the Horde, sorry I convinced you that we should trust Double Trouble. Everything I’ve done has been a huge mistake, and I would never be able to live with knowing that my mistakes have hurt you. You deserve to have the life you wanted – become Force Captain, work your way up until you’re running the Horde. I know we always said we’d rule together, but I can’t do that anymore._

_I’m a liar, Adora. I always have been. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, from the days when I didn’t know what love was, when all I knew was that being around you gave me this feeling in my stomach. People talk about having butterflies, but this was so much more, it was like a tornado in my gut that was always on the verge of ripping me apart – that’s how you made me feel every day. I was afraid though - afraid that you didn’t feel the same way, afraid that if I told you, you’d want nothing more to do with me. So I lied, I kept the truth hidden from you, because it was easier to keep it bottled up than to lose you entirely._

_I’ve been lying about myself these last few weeks too. I am falling apart, and it scares me – I’m hearing Shadow Weaver’s voice all the time; I’m seeing shadows where there shouldn’t be any. I mean, fuck, I’ve just had a long conversation with her, and I KNOW she’s dead. But she’s still in my head, and she won’t ever go, because she’s been in there for so long. I think she's a part of me now. Ever since I can remember, she’s been there, and I had hoped that killing her would finally put that to rest. It hasn’t, Adora, it’s just made it worse._

_Do you remember our promise? ‘It doesn’t matter what they do to us’? I lied about that too. It mattered. It mattered when Shadow Weaver choked me until I passed out from lack of oxygen. It mattered when she treated me like an animal, when I was forced to crawl around on all fours while she cackled in laughter and called me a dirty stray. It mattered when she told the kitchen staff not to feed me, then called me into her chamber and made me beg for the scraps that she threw on the floor. I ate off her fucking floor because it was either that or go hungry. I didn’t tell you most of this because we said that as long as we had each other, there was nothing so horrible that we couldn’t get through. That was wrong, there was, and I didn’t want to let you down by saying that I couldn’t keep our promise. All of this, all the shit she did to me, it’s still inside, casting its shadow over everything I do, and it’ll never be gone. The only thing that I know the future would hold for me is more visions of her making me doubt every action, chastising me for the slightest misstep._

_And then there’s Double Trouble. They’ve manipulated me, lied to me, even hit me… and it’s taken until tonight to realise that they’re taking advantage of me. I didn’t want to believe it, Double Trouble has been so nice to me, complimented me and made me feel like I had a purpose. But it was a sham and I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you because you saw them for who they really were, right from the start. And I’ve been lying to you all evening about everything that happened with them after you ran out. I don’t really know how to say this in any better way but, we fucked. They transformed into you and we had sex. It messed with my head even more, and somehow – I don’t even remember how – somehow, I ended up getting involved in a screwed-up plot to kill you. Right now, instead of writing this, I should be lying in bed, trying to sleep next to your corpse. But I couldn’t do it._

_So where does that leave me? Double Trouble will kick me to the curb as soon as they realise that you’re still alive. You probably won’t ever be able to trust me again now you know how hopelessly in love with you I am and that I was supposed to kill you. And still, Shadow Weaver is in my life, hurting me over and over again. There’s nothing left for me. If I didn’t care about you so much, I’d just do it right here, right now and let you wake up to my dead body. But I fucking love you, Adora, I’d never want you to have to witness that sight. I wouldn’t do that to you._

_I need to put everything right. You shouldn’t be hiding in a shitty hovel in the Crimson Waste – you are Adora, you’re the star cadet who should be the youngest Horde soldier to become Force Captain. You should shine bright and lead armies to victory, become the boss by the time you’re thirty. And me? I should accept my punishment. I know the penalty for what I did will be death, and that’s what I need. It’s what I want. If Hordak doesn’t kill me, then I’ll do it myself._

_Please don’t try and run after me, don’t try and convince me to change my mind. I need to die, Adora, it’s the only way I will be able to get free from my mess of a life. When I get back to the Fright Zone, I’m going to tell them that I kidnapped you and forced you to come with me, so when you get back in a few days, you won’t be in any trouble. You’re going to do so much better without me getting in the way and dragging you down. Let me die so that you can have a better life._

_I’ll still be looking out for you from the other side, I promise._

_Catra x_

Adora slammed the paper back onto the bed where she had found it the moment she had awoken and sprinted towards the door. She prayed that there was still time to stop Catra – maybe if she ran as fast as she could, she’d be able to catch up on the long walk back to the Fright Zone. It was a good day’s travel, so Catra would probably have to stop somewhere along the route to rest; if Adora hurried and pushed through the pain of running for hours, then there had to be a chance that she could intercept the girl before she made a decision she would regret.

The bedroom door was almost wrenched off its hinges with Adora’s haste to chase after her. She _had_ to move as quickly as possible – it wasn’t clear at what point during the night Catra had penned the letter, so she could be a mile away, maybe two, or even halfway to the Fright Zone at this point. Consumed by the fear of the worst, Adora’s mind had been railroaded into accepting that she would be running for hours, meaning it almost missed the small figure curled up in an armchair in Double Trouble’s living room. The first few instants the person hit her periphery, she assumed it was probably just the shapeshifter themself, and she was definitely not going to stop or slow herself down for them. But as the moments passed, giving her more awareness of their features, she stopped. The purple leggings, the wild brown hair…

“Catra!” Adora had never sounded so relieved as the moment she saw the girl there, head buried in her arms. She looked so tired, so defeated that it was heart-breaking to look at – but she was alive, and the reprieve from the fears that had plagued her mind moments before was welcome. There were so many questions running through Adora’s mind: what was all this about a plot to kill her? Why didn’t you tell me about the worst things Shadow Weaver did? What changed your mind?

That last question was the one that stuck around in the forefront of her mind. The Catra who wrote that letter hours before had nothing left, no will to live, no strength to push through and survive. And while the girl in front of her now was hardly a picture of happiness, there must have been a moment – a thought, a realisation, the briefest glimmer of hope that made her step back from the door and sit in that chair. Something made her want to stay alive, and whatever that may have been, it was important.

Weary eyes looked back up at Adora. The spark behind them that made Catra feel like Catra had gone, leaving an empty husk of her friend, the shell of a young woman vanquished by the weight of her entire life, “I’m sorry, Adora.”

“You don’t have to be, really,” she knelt on the floor by the chair, initially hesitant to offer any physical affection but settling on the touch of her hand on Catra’s bare forearm, “I had no idea things had got so bad for you, but I’m here now. We can fix everything, together.”

“You think so? I’ve fucked up so badly… I’m a horrible, horrible person.”

Adora gently stroked down the fur on her arm reassuringly, “You’re not a horrible person, Catra. It’s just been a tough time these last couple of weeks, and it’s no wonder all that has got to you. But there’s nothing that we can’t sort if we work hard together. I’ll find a way out – we’ll… we’ll go somewhere else, we’ll get away from Double Trouble and all of this, properly this time.”

“Don’t,” she pulled away from the touch, adjusting her position to face Adora, “I’ve screwed my life up and I don’t think I can undo everything. It was all going so well until I… you know, until I killed Shadow Weaver.”

There was a flicker of doubt that struck Adora, just for a moment. Catra’s life wasn’t exactly ‘going well’ when they were in the Fright Zone – she wasn’t that well-liked by the rest of the squad, Shadow Weaver was horrible to her – and the turn of phrase seemed out of place. But before she could ruminate too long on the wording, the logical part of her brain quelled her worry, reasoning that compared to the situation they were in now, things were going ‘well’. And if it were Double Trouble sat in front of her, they would surely have given up the charade and attacked her by now – it was only Catra’s presence that stopped them before, and if she was no longer here, they’d have no reason to hold back.

“Hey, hey,” she comforted, formulating an escape plan for the two of them in her mind, “There’s no reason it can’t go well again, I promise. Look, I’m going to go pack our things – we need to get out of here before Double Trouble returns.”

“Adora…” Catra rose from the chair, grasping her hand to pull her back. It was an unexpectedly tender touch, coupled with a soft tone of voice that was more on the flirtatious side than weary, and did little to dispel Adora’s fears that Double Trouble was playing another twisted game, “Let’s just leave now. We don’t need our things.”

“We don’t? Look, Catra, I’m going to ask you something, and it might sound strange,” there was no amount of reasoning or trust that could stem her misgivings about who she was talking to. She wanted to believe it was Catra, but Adora’s suspicions needed to be put to rest before she went any further, “Whose eye did you scratch out when you were a kid?”

“What?”

“Just answer. Please.”

Catra shrugged, “I dunno, I can’t remember that far back. My brain is all fucked right now anyway.”

“You need to answer me,” she insisted. The deflection had done little to allay her notion that it wasn’t really Catra sat in front of her.

“I don’t remember, Adora!”

She knew that wasn’t true. The real Catra wouldn’t have forgotten – she constantly boasted about it, using it to threaten the other cadets when they started to gang up on her, even though that rarely worked. It was almost like a badge of honour to her, a way to remind the others that she wasn’t a person to be messed with. Adora disliked the way Catra had always used causing permanent damage to someone as a brag, but in this moment, she was glad she did; it confirmed her doubts over who was truly stood before her.

“Double Trouble.”

The shapeshifter rolled their eyes before returning to their own form, a chuckle accompanying an arrogant smile, “Oh Adora, darling, you don’t let me have any fun.”

Rage bubbled up inside Adora from the realisation that not only had Double Trouble been tricking her, but that they had also stalled her from chasing after Catra. What was a bit of ‘fun’ for them could have been the difference between life and death for her best friend, and the heartless way they had reacted to being found out only served to underline how little they cared for her. Adora’s eyes stared down the shapeshifter’s, both refusing to show any weakness, and it only caused the anger to become more urgent, more intense. The look in Double Trouble’s eyes had no remorse for what they’d done, taking Adora’s rage to boiling point, and she landed a powerful punch square in the centre of their face.

“Bitch!” Double Trouble reeled back, rubbing a clawed hand across their nose in a vain attempt to lessen the pain. The jab had caught them off-guard, but they vowed that wouldn’t happen twice. Crouching to the floor, they felt around underneath the chair they’d been sat in, locating the hilt of a sword that they had hidden underneath for this very eventuality, then returning upright with the weapon pointed directly at Adora, “But ultimately pointless, sweetheart. I guess Catra isn’t the only one who is going to die today.”

Intending to intimidate, rather than injure, they jabbed the sword towards Adora’s chest, who hopped backwards out of the way, scanning the room for anything she could use to even the playing field. There was little of any help around her, and Double Trouble continued to close the gap between the two of them, the point of the blade forcing Adora to retreat until she felt her back press against the wall. For most people, this would have been the point where they conceded, admitted defeat, and begged the shapeshifter to spare their life whilst simultaneously expecting the worst. But it wasn’t just her own life that Adora had to consider, Catra’s depended on her escaping this situation too, and she wasn’t going to let her down.

“So, Adora,” they hissed threateningly, a trail of blood now running down their face from her earlier blow, “Shall I kill you quickly, or shall I make you suffer? Do I put this sword through your throat, or do I make you watch while I hack your limbs off one by one until you bleed to death? Which will it be, painless or painful, quick or agonisingly long, option one or option two?”

Adora’s eyes focused on the razor-like edge of the sword, narrowing with determination, “How about option three?”

Her leg swung upward, a foot impacting Double Trouble’s stomach. It wasn’t a particularly forceful kick, certainly nowhere near enough to cause much pain, but it worked perfectly as a distraction. The surprise made the shapeshifter lose focus for a second, and that was all Adora needed to gain an advantage. She slipped to the side, ducking to avoid the reckless retaliatory swing of the sword and popped back up with a hard punch to DT’s throat that made them double over as they tried to recapture the breath it had stolen from them. Without any let up, Adora wound her leg back, starting with a robust kick to the side of their calf and continuing the bombardment with a series of strikes to their legs until one gave out, bringing Double Trouble to their knees.

Momentarily unable to stand and still gasping for breath, the shapeshifter’s grip on the sword had weakened, allowing Adora to snatch it from their hand. Another stomp on their back left them cowering on the floor, the blade now pointed at their astonished face. They could barely believe how skilled Adora had been to have overcome them like that – if only she’d been as willing as Catra to work for them, the three of them could have become powerful beyond their dreams.

“Are you… shit…” Double Trouble coughed and spluttered as they tried to talk, “You gonna kill me?”

The young woman knelt down beside them, stabbing the sword into the wooden floor and resting her chin on the hilt. There was a hint of arrogance in her expression, born of the satisfaction of having come out on top against someone she hated with such fervour, “Nah. You’re not worth it, and I really need to run. Thanks for the sword though.”

“It’s point… pointless. Catra’s already dead,” even as Adora was leaving, armed with their favourite blade, Double Trouble still couldn’t resist one last jibe. It was still so very easy to rile her up, and they wouldn’t get another chance.

She paused silently for a few moments, then turned back towards them, “You’re a shapeshifter, right? Does that mean you can fix your body when it gets hurt?”

“I… sort of?”

“Good,” a malign smirk washed over Adora’s face as she raised the sword up, then slammed the pointed end down to the floor straight through Double Trouble’s hand. They emitted an ear-splitting scream of pain, and their eyes glazed over as their body tried to distance itself from the messages of immense agony that their nerves were sending up from the wound. Another crescendo of anguished cry escaped them when Adora smartly pulled the sword back out, sending the shapeshifter’s blood flying up to stain her clothes, and the overwhelming pain started to dim their consciousness. They barely managed to keep themself awake long enough to hear Adora’s parting words, “If Catra is dead, I’ll be back for you.”

* * *

The Fright Zone was just as oppressive as Catra remembered it. She wasn’t sure quite what it was about the place that made you constantly feel as though someone were stood behind you, staring at your every move, even when you were alone. Maybe it was the lighting that left so much darkness around you, and you could never truly be certain whether a dark corner was just a dark corner, or a void that expanded into a shadowy realm filled with the horrifying creatures that the other cadets told ghost stories about. Or maybe it was the noise; if you grew up in the Fright Zone, you never knew true silence. Even in the dead of night, when only a few guards were awake, that all-pervasive hum was still constant, a sound you could hear but never focus on, that could either have been coming from right next to you or from miles away. Catra wasn’t sure if it had a source, if it was the rumble of some piece of machinery somewhere in the complex, or whether it was just in the imagination of every person who lived there. Both were equally likely.

Then there was the air, that industrial smell of metal and grease which infused every inch of the place. The atmosphere in the Fright Zone was just a little too heavy to be comfortable, yet not so much that it was uncomfortable, and the soldiers lived in a constant state of unease where they couldn’t quite relax. That was by design, Catra assumed, another little touch to keep them under control and prevent them from getting complacent in their duties. Having been away, even for just a couple of weeks, and used to truly fresh air, that closeness only seemed more intense now her brief spell of freedom had finally come to an end.

Hordak’s throne room was a strange sort of place. Neither private chamber nor public space, it existed in an odd state of flux between the two. Though it was massive in size, easily able to fit the majority of the Horde’s troops inside, it was rare that any of them were allowed in. Lord Hordak himself spent a large part of his time in his lab, leaving the room empty more often than not, yet to enter the throne room uninvited was to commit the crime of invading the warlord’s privacy. Sometimes, however, the soldiers were summoned en masse, and that usually meant something important was happening. Given that Hordak was not the sort of person to celebrate birthdays, promotions, or successes, every moment Catra and the others had spent in his throne room was to witness something awful. Having formed part of the audience on all previous occasions, this time Catra was to be the star of a horrifyingly unforgettable show.

“I am a man of my word,” Hordak addressed his troops with no small measure of smugness permeating his words, a triumphant tone that masked just how grateful he was that Catra had walked back through the door shortly before he gave up entirely. The search for the two fugitives had proved fruitless, save for a brief sighting in the village of Elberon the day they left, and diverting so many people to the manhunt was beginning to leave the frontline troops depleted. Of course, he had a plan for that eventuality as well; the story to the soldiers would have been that both the runaways had been located and killed by the squad who found them. But to have one of them present herself to him was a stroke of luck, allowing him to give her a swift, and very public, execution that would serve to reinforce his power. As for the other one, she would be found before long.

When the soldiers had filed in moments earlier, laying eyes on a handcuffed Catra stood staring at the floor in front of her, there were audible gasps and hushed chatter amongst them. That stopped the moment their leader had appeared into view from the darkness, the relative silence growing heavier with every second before he spoke, “Two weeks ago, I assured you that I would not rest until the person responsible for Shadow Weaver’s murder was in front of me to be punished. I vowed that what I would do to the culprit would act as a warning to each and every one of you not to cross me. I promised that the traitor would face my judgement one day, and that day is today.

“If anyone here believes that they would get away with such betrayal, I implore you to watch what I am about to do. Even fleeing from her crime did nothing to stop Catra from being brought to justice, because while you can run, the might of the Horde across Etheria means you can never hide. I will find you, just as I have found Catra. And now you will witness her punishment.”

A helmeted soldier stepped forward from the audience, presenting Hordak’s weapon to him with a meek, nervous bow. The warlord held it aloft for all to see, a modified stun baton that had almost graduated to mythical status amongst the younger cadets who had yet to see it. While the standard issue Horde baton was largely a defensive weapon to fend off attackers so that the tanks and larger guns could do greater damage, this was something Hordak himself had enhanced in his lab. The only visual clue that it was different was the larger hand grip, a result of the bigger battery that was needed to power it, but the difference in its capability was disturbingly greater. This was a formidable weapon, capable of firing out an energy pulse that could burn through several inches of metal with little effort. When fired at a living being, the result could only have been instant death.

Hordak’s arm stretched out towards her, the end of the weapon a foot from Catra’s face and ready to charge up the pulse to end her life. The act, however, was cut short by the sound of shocked gasping and murmuring from the corner of the room.

“Silence! How dare you…” his anger was short lived, being replaced with surprise. The crowd of soldiers parted to reveal the source of the disruption – Adora striding purposefully towards him, armed with a sword and a look of intense determination. Her gaze did not waver from his even for a moment, and to a lesser man, one who did not have several hundred trained soldiers under his command surrounding her, it would have been frightening.

“Let her go,” she snarled. It was not a suggestion, but a demand. No part of the way she spoke showed any willingness to accept refusal.

“Adora, no…” Catra’s voice was drained, almost begging. Adora couldn’t be sure if it were a longing to be saved or to be left, and the likelihood of the latter scared her, “I told you not to follow me, you need to stop playing the hero. Just leave me.”

She had no time to respond before Hordak gave a low, unsettling chuckle that sent a shiver down her spine and blossomed into a hearty, malicious laugh, “Well, well, well, it’s her partner in crime. It appears we will be witnessing two punishments today.”

“No,” Adora raised the blade and pointed it at the man as she flatly rejected his words. She held no fear for herself; even knowing that Hordak could kill her in seconds did nothing to abate the anger inside – anger at Hordak for what he was planning to do, anger at Double Trouble for the way they had treated Catra and anger at herself for not seeing what was really happening to her best friend. That last part was the hardest for her to handle. If Catra died here, after all of Adora’s mistakes – over-reacting to the kiss, spending more time trying to convince Catra not to trust Double Trouble than she did asking her how she felt, ignoring the little signs that the girl wasn’t doing well – then it would be her fault. Her only fear was failing Catra.

“Restrain her!” Hordak barked his order. Several soldiers rushed forward to try and apprehend Adora but losing after coming so far was not an option she wanted to entertain. She reeled the sword around behind her and prepared to fight. Metal slammed into armour, commencing the hardest battle of her life. With her focus heightened, soldier after soldier was met with forceful punches, slashes of her weapon, vigorous kicks that sent bodies flying into other bodies. The moment an opponent appeared in her periphery, Adora was ready, instantly adjusting her strategy to react to them.

Even as she fought, however, she could not forget that Catra was the most pressing issue. The room rapidly descended to chaos around her, but Adora never once lost sight of where her best friend stood, still looking crushed under the burden of her own regrets. She battled through the mass of soldiers trying to hold her back, shaking her arms free from their grip over and over, lashing out with the sword to clear her path. There was an instant of distraction, a fighter who had a strong grip around the wrist in which she held her weapon, that made her look away for the second it took to bring her other hand around to punch them away. It was only a moment that her focus moved from saving Catra, but in that time, despite the loud commotion that filled the room, the high-pitched whine of a weapon charging up engulfed her entire hearing. As it reached its crescendo, Adora felt a sense of dread she’d never known.

“Catra!” she cried, desperately, as her friend became the only thing in the room that she paid attention to. She tore free of the soldiers around her, running towards where Hordak stood, the end of his weapon glowing with bright green energy, “No!”

Adora couldn’t reach either of them before it happened. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she watched the pulse become free of the firearm, tracing a direct path through the air towards Catra’s head. If she had more than a split second to react, she might have turned away or covered her eyes, but Hordak’s shot took no more than an instant, in which she was forced to watch the death of her best friend. The energy beam struck Catra in the centre of her forehead, flaring up to an almost unbearable brightness as it hit her skin. The force of the shot knocked her off her feet, leaving splashes of blood appearing to hang in the air, and she flew backwards before the sound of her limp body crumpling onto the floor resonated in Adora’s ears.

In that moment, she heard silence. True silence. No chatter of excited cadets, no barked orders from superiors, no metallic humming. The Fright Zone was finally devoid of any sound. And while that strange calm enveloped Adora, the image of Catra’s dead body lying in a flaccid heap on the floor seared itself into her brain. The way her arm buckled underneath her as she landed, the minuscule wisp of smoke that fleetingly rose from the burned flesh surrounding the bloody hole in her face that the shot had created, the way that her eyes were shut, indicating that her final action was to close them so she wouldn’t see the pulse that was ending her life coming towards her.

Something stirred inside Adora. It wasn’t quite anger, nor fear – it was something more powerful than both. As it grew, so her awareness of the noise around her returned, vanquishing the silence with tumultuous uproar; but the shouts of the soldiers could not have hoped to rise above the sound that came from Adora’s mouth. It was guttural roar, a thunder of unrestrained fury that signified her passing the point of no-return, where untapped reserves of strength and energy became liberated. The sword she held turned from weapon to an extension of her body, tearing at the troops around her as easily and effortlessly as a swipe of her own hand while Adora honed in on her true target: Lord Hordak.

Getting ever nearer to him, she was welcomed by a jerk of the leader’s arm that aimed his weapon at her face. There was barely time for her to duck as Hordak fired a sudden, weak pulse of energy towards her, the miss clearly angering him further.

“Kill her!” the business end of his firearm built up a green glow. This time, Hordak would not waste time on a quick, ineffectual shot, he would charge it up to its full power in order to destroy her. Seeing few other options, Adora turned away, striking out with the sword at any Horde soldiers who dared try to obstruct her. Now Catra was gone, now she was laying lifeless on the hard floor of Hordak’s throne room, there was no reason for her to stay in the Fright Zone. Trying to fight, with sword against what was probably the most powerful handheld weapon on the planet, would be reckless and certain death. She couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , let Catra’s death be in vain. She had to stay alive, and that meant running once again.

Another roar came from Hordak behind her, indicating that he was firing on her. Thinking rapidly, Adora dropped down, sliding feet first along the floor while she witnessed the bolt of energy flying overhead, narrowly missing an unlucky cadet and obliterating the door to the room. She felt her speed slowing and jumped back to her feet in a show of impressive dexterity that helped her evade another couple of the gathered troops. The sound of Hordak’s weapon charging up for another shot was scarcely loud enough to hear above the commotion, but Adora used its drone as motivation to speed up, escaping the room just as he fired.

The relative freedom of the corridor was soon filled with chasing soldiers, but Adora was concentrating only on what lay ahead of her. Her pursuers were unprepared, not having expected to need to arm themselves to watch Catra’s execution, and she had put enough distance between them and herself to be out of their reach. A couple of unsuspecting cadets emerged from side rooms, their curiosity captured by the unusual sounds, but soon jumped back in the face of an enraged young woman armed with a sword. The maze-like layout of the Fright Zone proved beneficial to Adora, taking corner after corner to break the line of sight, and it wasn’t long before the dozens of soldiers chasing her initially had dwindled to a handful of the fastest runners. She rounded another corner, stretching her blade out to attack the white shirt that stood in her way should they not move.

“Adora, it’s me!” the cadet grabbed her shoulder, pulling her into an open equipment closet and slamming the door shut behind the two of them.

Adora halted her arm from striking, “Lonnie?”

“Why the hell did you come back?” her voice was a whisper, a necessity to keep the two of them hidden, but it still conveyed a strong current of irritation.

“I needed to save Catra, I had to…”

The vision of the fatal shot hitting her best friend invaded her conscious, repeating over and over the moment where Adora had failed. If she hadn’t let herself get distracted, if she had moved a fraction of a second earlier… The tears came without warning, and she collapsed forward into Lonnie’s shoulder, weeping quietly into the fabric of her shirt.

“No-one deserves what happened to her,” she tried to comfort Adora, knowing how, despite usually being an insufferable ass, Catra was special to her, “But you must have known there wasn’t anything you could have done. The Horde has been looking for her for weeks.”

Adora shook her head, raising herself back upright, “They weren’t. She… Catra was not well, she was hearing all these voices and seeing stuff, and then the person we stayed with was fucking with her mind. She left in the middle of the night to come back here to die, and I… Shit, Lonnie, I need to go kill him. Hordak needs to pay for what he did.”

“No, Adora, you have to get out of here.”

“And just let him get away with killing her?!”

“I’m not saying that,” Lonnie placed a hand on Adora’s shoulder, which had a slight calming effect, “Now is not the time. If you walk back in there now, what happened to Catra is going to happen to you. _Everyone_ is looking for you, and by now they’re gonna be getting the weapons out, so I’ll help you get out of here, but you need to run. Again.”

Adora pressed her hand into her face. Every enraged part of her wanted to get swift revenge, to stroll confidently up to Lord Hordak and run her sword through his body, but she knew Lonnie was right. Even the chances of her being able to sneak out of the Fright Zone unseen were slim, so heading back into the heart of the complex would be a suicide mission. She took a couple of deep breaths to suppress the urge to put herself back in danger and nodded, “Okay.”

“Here, put this on,” Lonnie scoured the shelving in the cupboard and picked off a helmet that would fit Adora. It was not the most fool-proof disguise – Adora’s blood- and sweat-stained shirt made her stand out from the rest of the soldiers in their pristine clothes, but in the heat of a chase, a helmet would mask Adora’s appearance just enough. Opening the door slightly, Lonnie peeked out to check for anyone in the corridor, exiting the room and beckoning the other girl out when she saw that the coast was clear.

“I’m bringing the sword,” Adora asserted. Despite how easily it would give her away, she wouldn’t allow herself to be unarmed, and she appeared to have an innate ability to handle a sword. The Horde had never trained her to use one but attacking with the blade felt like muscle memory for Adora.

Lonnie scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Fine. Whatever. Now let’s go!”

The two young women set off sprinting down the corridor, and Adora was unable to stop herself remembering the last time she did this, when she and Catra first escaped the Fright Zone. It was the same corridor, the same background clamour of soldiers chasing, the same way she used the trick of thumping the skiff bay’s entry keypad to open the door. The closest of the vessels was even parked in the exact same spot as the one she had taken before. She had the same feeling of tentative relief when she felt the temperature drop as she reached the outside, the same force throwing her back as the skiff accelerated as fast as she could, the same sensation of the wind buffeting her body.

But this time, she didn’t have Catra beside her.

Adora looked back to see several other skiffs chasing her, their pilots having no qualms about firing upon the person they had been told was a traitor to the Horde. A torrent of laser shots whistled past either side of her, and she began to swerve to try and evade the fire. Head jerking between looking where she was going and checking her pursuers, Adora kept her speed up to press on towards her freedom. The closest skiff behind her fired once again, and she wrenched the rudder in a vain attempt to dodge, falling to the deck and losing her sword off the side as the engine suffered a direct hit. A cacophony of beeps and alarms came from the vessel as it careered out of control. Adora battled with the rudder but was unable to steady her course in time to avoid the trees on the edge of the Whispering Woods. The front of the skiff hit a tree at an angle, and Adora was thrown free of the vessel, sailing through the air until she landed hard on the ground, the force of the impact making her black out.

* * *

_“Hey, Adora.”_

_Adora slowly opened her eyes, taking a few moments to adjust to the harsh blue light of her surroundings. The room she was in was unknown to her, although strangely familiar, with huge, jagged crystals encircling the centre where she was laid. She had no idea where she was, nor how she got here; all she could remember was waking up._

_“Catra?”_

_She felt a hand lightly stroke her shoulder, “I’m here, Adora.”_

_“Where am I?”_

_“Where you need to be. With me.”_

_Adora sat upright, the sudden change in position making her light-headed and almost resulting in her falling towards the side, “Sorry, I’m… what happened to me?”_

_“You’re fine, Adora,” Catra smiled, “You’ve been sleeping so long it’s not surprising that you’re a bit off-balance.”_

**_Balance. Balance. Balance. Balance. You must balance the planet. You must balance Etheria, Adora._ **

_A voice reverberated in Adora’s head, and she tried to shake it out, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve just been sleeping for… wait, how long have I been sleeping for?”_

_“Long enough. I, uh, I don’t actually know… I just found you in the forest passed out, so I brought you here.”_

_“You saved me?”_

_The feline laughed, “I wouldn’t quite say that, but sure, I saved you. About time I was the one of us who played hero.”_

**_Hero. Hero. Hero. Hero. Etheria must seek a Hero. You are Etheria’s Hero, Adora._ **

_“What is going on?” the amnesia, the unusual location, the words that she kept hearing… something was wrong, and Adora was growing desperate to make sense of it. She gripped onto her friend’s arm, “Catra, what is going on?!”_

_“Calm down, Adora. I’m here, you don’t need to worry. I’m looking out for you.”_

_Her words created the tiniest spark in Adora’s mind that set off a chain reaction. ‘Looking out for you’ – the letter, the bed she found it on, the house she was in, Double Trouble, running, the Fright Zone, Hordak, the shot, Catra…_

_“You’re not here,” Adora stared at whatever was manifesting as her best friend, and her determination built. She stood up, darting around in a circle to look for the real reason she was here, “Whoever you are, show yourself! I am not afraid to fight!”_

**Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight, Adora. Will you fight, Adora? Will you fight for the Honor of Grayskull?**

_“Adora!” Catra reached out to touch her, but she brushed it off, “There’s nothing wrong, please just calm down.”_

_“No! I need to get out of here!” she ran to the corners of the room, looking for an exit amidst the darkness, pressing on walls in search of a hidden door and even stomping on the ground to try to find any way out, “Let me leave!”_

_Scouring every inch of the place she was enclosed within, Adora still came up short in her search for an exit. She made her way back towards the centre where she had first woken up, expecting to see the disgustingly insensitive approximation of her dead friend, but it had gone. There was nothing left, save for a sword giving off an intense blue glow, being held in place by a mess of tree roots. The sword was significantly more impressive than the one she had taken from Double Trouble – a mesmerising blue stone was held within a pristine golden hilt with extravagantly detailed wings, from which a blade etched with symbols extended. Adora had never seen anything like it, nor had she come across the style of writing along the blade before, yet she could read it._

_“She… Ra…?”_

* * *

A blinding light stole Adora’s vision for several moments before dying down to a low glimmer. The strange room she had been in was no longer there; she was back in the darkness of the Whispering Woods, with the sword in a clearing in front of her. She gazed into the blue glow, noting how the colour was almost a perfect match to that of Catra’s right eye, and a regretful sadness enveloped her as the painful memory of failure came to the forefront.

_No matter how sweet the sound  
We pushed so hard we finally broke  
No more apologies need be exchanged  
No word could ever help relieve this pain_

An impulse to reach out and touch the sword swamped her, and she raised her hand up to hover over it. She could feel a power radiating from it, a buzz of electricity that seemed greater than anything on the planet could produce, yet painless and welcoming. There was a sense of foreboding, like making that final connection could change her life, and somehow, she knew that nothing would be the same for her. But then again, her life had already been irreversibly altered that day. Adora glanced towards the space beside her where she wished, more than anything, that Catra could have been stood, then lowered her hand onto the hilt of the sword.

_All our silence could not excuse  
Disappoint or further prove  
Anything other than what we already know  
Easier to live with pain than have to let it go_

When she made contact, it felt as though her entire life was expanding. Visions danced through her mind like a flipbook – images of runestones, of planets and stars, of princesses, of a woman with long hair lifting the sword aloft. Another woman, alien-looking, spoke her name, inviting her to become the hero that Etheria needed. Adora’s awareness of the world around her seemed magnified, the true nature of Etheria like a thought she knew she had but couldn’t quite recall. And then the rapid carousel of images slowed to reveal Catra, the memory of her best friend taking form in the happy, smiling girl she remembered fondly. A warm, bittersweet peace enveloped her as Catra’s image spoke the words that reignited a determination within her: Be my hero, Adora.

_Spent your life collecting so you can never forget  
Treasured memories become lost treasures when you can’t recollect  
Everyone keeps asking are we okay  
The truth is we’re not, but I don’t know what to say_

She took hold of the sword, raising it above her head with renewed purpose. In that moment, Adora knew, clearer than ever, that she had to fight; fight for Etheria, fight for herself, fight for Catra, fight…

“For the honor of Grayskull!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic! It's one that has really challenged me, and I've loved writing every single part (for some reason, it's the dark stuff that I feel like I'm better at writing). 
> 
> (Song used in the final scene is All The Things Lost by MS MR)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora finds Catra's letter, spurring her into action. Can she save her best friend before it's too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the climax of the story, I have written and written - so much so that this is almost twice as long as the other chapters, but hopefully worth it. And I hope that you cry half as much as I did writing it >.>
> 
> I have written two different endings - one where Catra survives and one where she doesn't. You can read the one you like best, or read them both (they are about 80% the same though). This one is the alternative ending where she does make it.
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter are unsurprisingly numerous: suicidal behaviour and thoughts, descriptions of abuse, strong bloody violence and injury. I think that's it.

_Dear Adora,_

_When you read this, I will be gone._

_For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you into this, sorry I made you run from the Horde, sorry I convinced you that we should trust Double Trouble. Everything I’ve done has been a huge mistake, and I would never be able to live with knowing that my mistakes have hurt you. You deserve to have the life you wanted – become Force Captain, work your way up until you’re running the Horde. I know we always said we’d rule together, but I can’t do that anymore._

_I’m a liar, Adora. I always have been. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, from the days when I didn’t know what love was, when all I knew was that being around you gave me this feeling in my stomach. People talk about having butterflies, but this was so much more, it was like a tornado in my gut that was always on the verge of ripping me apart – that’s how you made me feel every day. I was afraid though - afraid that you didn’t feel the same way, afraid that if I told you, you’d want nothing more to do with me. So I lied, I kept the truth hidden from you, because it was easier to keep it bottled up than to lose you entirely._

_I’ve been lying about myself these last few weeks too. I am falling apart, and it scares me – I’m hearing Shadow Weaver’s voice all the time; I’m seeing shadows where there shouldn’t be any. I mean, fuck, I’ve just had a long conversation with her, and I KNOW she’s dead. But she’s still in my head, and she won’t ever go, because she’s been in there for so long. I think she's a part of me now. Ever since I can remember, she’s been there, and I had hoped that killing her would finally put that to rest. It hasn’t, Adora, it’s just made it worse._

_Do you remember our promise? ‘It doesn’t matter what they do to us’? I lied about that too. It mattered. It mattered when Shadow Weaver choked me until I passed out from lack of oxygen. It mattered when she treated me like an animal, when I was forced to crawl around on all fours while she cackled in laughter and called me a dirty stray. It mattered when she told the kitchen staff not to feed me, then called me into her chamber and made me beg for the scraps that she threw on the floor. I ate off her fucking floor because it was either that or go hungry. I didn’t tell you most of this because we said that as long as we had each other, there was nothing so horrible that we couldn’t get through. That was wrong, there was, and I didn’t want to let you down by saying that I couldn’t keep our promise. All of this, all the shit she did to me, it’s still inside, casting its shadow over everything I do, and it’ll never be gone. The only thing that I know the future would hold for me is more visions of her making me doubt every action, chastising me for the slightest misstep._

_And then there’s Double Trouble. They’ve manipulated me, lied to me, even hit me… and it’s taken until tonight to realise that they’re taking advantage of me. I didn’t want to believe it, Double Trouble has been so nice to me, complimented me and made me feel like I had a purpose. But it was a sham and I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you because you saw them for who they really were, right from the start. And I’ve been lying to you all evening about everything that happened with them after you ran out. I don’t really know how to say this in any better way but, we fucked. They transformed into you and we had sex. It messed with my head even more, and somehow – I don’t even remember how – somehow, I ended up getting involved in a screwed-up plot to kill you. Right now, instead of writing this, I should be lying in bed, trying to sleep next to your corpse. But I couldn’t do it._

_So where does that leave me? Double Trouble will kick me to the curb as soon as they realise that you’re still alive. You probably won’t ever be able to trust me again now you know how hopelessly in love with you I am and that I was supposed to kill you. And still, Shadow Weaver is in my life, hurting me over and over again. There’s nothing left for me. If I didn’t care about you so much, I’d just do it right here, right now and let you wake up to my dead body. But I fucking love you, Adora, I’d never want you to have to witness that sight. I wouldn’t do that to you._

_I need to put everything right. You shouldn’t be hiding in a shitty hovel in the Crimson Waste – you are Adora, you’re the star cadet who should be the youngest Horde soldier to become Force Captain. You should shine bright and lead armies to victory, become the boss by the time you’re thirty. And me? I should accept my punishment. I know the penalty for what I did will be death, and that’s what I need. It’s what I want. If Hordak doesn’t kill me, then I’ll do it myself._

_Please don’t try and run after me, don’t try and convince me to change my mind. I need to die, Adora, it’s the only way I will be able to get free from my mess of a life. When I get back to the Fright Zone, I’m going to tell them that I kidnapped you and forced you to come with me, so when you get back in a few days, you won’t be in any trouble. You’re going to do so much better without me getting in the way and dragging you down. Let me die so that you can have a better life._

_I’ll still be looking out for you from the other side, I promise._

_Catra x_

Adora slammed the paper back onto the bed where she had found it the moment she had awoken and sprinted towards the door. She prayed that there was still time to stop Catra – maybe if she ran as fast as she could, she’d be able to catch up on the long walk back to the Fright Zone. It was a good day’s travel, so Catra would probably have to stop somewhere along the route to rest; if Adora hurried and pushed through the pain of running for hours, then there had to be a chance that she could intercept the girl before she made a decision she would regret.

The bedroom door was almost wrenched off its hinges with Adora’s haste to chase after her. She _had_ to move as quickly as possible – it wasn’t clear at what point during the night Catra had penned the letter, so she could be a mile away, maybe two, or even halfway to the Fright Zone at this point. Consumed by the fear of the worst, Adora’s mind had been railroaded into accepting that she would be running for hours, meaning it almost missed the small figure curled up in an armchair in Double Trouble’s living room. The first few instants the person hit her periphery, she assumed it was probably just the shapeshifter themself, and she was definitely not going to stop or slow herself down for them. But as the moments passed, giving her more awareness of their features, she stopped. The purple leggings, the wild brown hair…

“Catra!” Adora had never sounded so relieved as the moment she saw the girl there, head buried in her arms. She looked so tired, so defeated that it was heart-breaking to look at – but she was alive, and the reprieve from the fears that had plagued her mind moments before was welcome. There were so many questions running through Adora’s mind: what was all this about a plot to kill her? Why didn’t you tell me about the worst things Shadow Weaver did? What changed your mind?

That last question was the one that stuck around in the forefront of her mind. The Catra who wrote that letter hours before had nothing left, no will to live, no strength to push through and survive. And while the girl in front of her now was hardly a picture of happiness, there must have been a moment – a thought, a realisation, the briefest glimmer of hope that made her step back from the door and sit in that chair. Something made her want to stay alive, and whatever that may have been, it was important.

Weary eyes looked back up at Adora. The spark behind them that made Catra feel like Catra had gone, leaving an empty husk of her friend, the shell of a young woman vanquished by the weight of her entire life, “I’m sorry, Adora.”

“You don’t have to be, really,” she knelt on the floor by the chair, initially hesitant to offer any physical affection but settling on the touch of her hand on Catra’s bare forearm, “I had no idea things had got so bad for you, but I’m here now. We can fix everything, together.”

“You think so? I’ve fucked up so badly… I’m a horrible, horrible person.”

Adora gently stroked down the fur on her arm reassuringly, “You’re not a horrible person, Catra. It’s just been a tough time these last couple of weeks, and it’s no wonder all that has got to you. But there’s nothing that we can’t sort if we work hard together. I’ll find a way out – we’ll… we’ll go somewhere else, we’ll get away from Double Trouble and all of this, properly this time.”

“Don’t,” she pulled away from the touch, adjusting her position to face Adora, “I’ve screwed my life up and I don’t think I can undo everything. It was all going so well until I… you know, until I killed Shadow Weaver.”

There was a flicker of doubt that struck Adora, just for a moment. Catra’s life wasn’t exactly ‘going well’ when they were in the Fright Zone – she wasn’t that well-liked by the rest of the squad, Shadow Weaver was horrible to her – and the turn of phrase seemed out of place. But before she could ruminate too long on the wording, the logical part of her brain quelled her worry, reasoning that compared to the situation they were in now, things were going ‘well’. And if it were Double Trouble sat in front of her, they would surely have given up the charade and attacked her by now – it was only Catra’s presence that stopped them before, and if she was no longer here, they’d have no reason to hold back.

“Hey, hey,” she comforted, formulating an escape plan for the two of them in her mind, “There’s no reason it can’t go well again, I promise. Look, I’m going to go pack our things – we need to get out of here before Double Trouble returns.”

“Adora…” Catra rose from the chair, grasping her hand to pull her back. It was an unexpectedly tender touch, coupled with a soft tone of voice that was more on the flirtatious side than weary, and did little to dispel Adora’s fears that Double Trouble was playing another twisted game, “Let’s just leave now. We don’t need our things.”

“We don’t? Look, Catra, I’m going to ask you something, and it might sound strange,” there was no amount of reasoning or trust that could stem her misgivings about who she was talking to. She wanted to believe it was Catra, but Adora’s suspicions needed to be put to rest before she went any further, “Whose eye did you scratch out when you were a kid?”

“What?”

“Just answer. Please.”

Catra shrugged, “I dunno, I can’t remember that far back. My brain is all fucked right now anyway.”

“You need to answer me,” she insisted. The deflection had done little to allay her notion that it wasn’t really Catra sat in front of her.

“I don’t remember, Adora!”

She knew that wasn’t true. The real Catra wouldn’t have forgotten – she constantly boasted about it, using it to threaten the other cadets when they started to gang up on her, even though that rarely worked. It was almost like a badge of honour to her, a way to remind the others that she wasn’t a person to be messed with. Adora disliked the way Catra had always used causing permanent damage to someone as a brag, but in this moment, she was glad she did; it confirmed her doubts over who was truly stood before her.

“Double Trouble.”

The shapeshifter rolled their eyes before returning to their own form, a chuckle accompanying an arrogant smile, “Oh Adora, darling, you don’t let me have any fun.”

Rage bubbled up inside Adora from the realisation that not only had Double Trouble been tricking her, but that they had also stalled her from chasing after Catra. What was a bit of ‘fun’ for them could have been the difference between life and death for her best friend, and the heartless way they had reacted to being found out only served to underline how little they cared for her. Adora’s eyes stared down the shapeshifter’s, both refusing to show any weakness, and it only caused the anger to become more urgent, more intense. The look in Double Trouble’s eyes had no remorse for what they’d done, taking Adora’s rage to boiling point, and she landed a powerful punch square in the centre of their face.

“Bitch!” Double Trouble reeled back, rubbing a clawed hand across their nose in a vain attempt to lessen the pain. The jab had caught them off-guard, but they vowed that wouldn’t happen twice. Crouching to the floor, they felt around underneath the chair they’d been sat in, locating the hilt of a sword that they had hidden underneath for this very eventuality, then returning upright with the weapon pointed directly at Adora, “But ultimately pointless, sweetheart. I guess Catra isn’t the only one who is going to die today.”

Intending to intimidate, rather than injure, they jabbed the sword towards Adora’s chest, who hopped backwards out of the way, scanning the room for anything she could use to even the playing field. There was little of any help around her, and Double Trouble continued to close the gap between the two of them, the point of the blade forcing Adora to retreat until she felt her back press against the wall. For most people, this would have been the point where they conceded, admitted defeat, and begged the shapeshifter to spare their life whilst simultaneously expecting the worst. But it wasn’t just her own life that Adora had to consider, Catra’s depended on her escaping this situation too, and she wasn’t going to let her down.

“So, Adora,” they hissed threateningly, a trail of blood now running down their face from her earlier blow, “Shall I kill you quickly, or shall I make you suffer? Do I put this sword through your throat, or do I make you watch while I hack your limbs off one by one until you bleed to death? Which will it be, painless or painful, quick or agonisingly long, option one or option two?”

Adora’s eyes focused on the razor-like edge of the sword, narrowing with determination, “How about option three?”

Her leg swung upward, a foot impacting Double Trouble’s stomach. It wasn’t a particularly forceful kick, certainly nowhere near enough to cause much pain, but it worked perfectly as a distraction. The surprise made the shapeshifter lose focus for a second, and that was all Adora needed to gain an advantage. She slipped to the side, ducking to avoid the reckless retaliatory swing of the sword and popped back up with a hard punch to DT’s throat that made them double over as they tried to recapture the breath it had stolen from them. Without any let up, Adora wound her leg back, starting with a robust kick to the side of their calf and continuing the bombardment with a series of strikes to their legs until one gave out, bringing Double Trouble to their knees.

Momentarily unable to stand and still gasping for breath, the shapeshifter’s grip on the sword had weakened, allowing Adora to snatch it from their hand. Another stomp on their back left them cowering on the floor, the blade now pointed at their astonished face. They could barely believe how skilled Adora had been to have overcome them like that – if only she’d been as willing as Catra to work for them, the three of them could have become powerful beyond their dreams.

“Are you… shit…” Double Trouble coughed and spluttered as they tried to talk, “You gonna kill me?”

The young woman knelt down beside them, stabbing the sword into the wooden floor and resting her chin on the hilt. There was a hint of arrogance in her expression, born of the satisfaction of having come out on top against someone she hated with such fervour, “Nah. You’re not worth it, and I really need to run. Thanks for the sword though.”

“It’s point… pointless. Catra’s already dead,” even as Adora was leaving, armed with their favourite blade, Double Trouble still couldn’t resist one last jibe. It was still so very easy to rile her up, and they wouldn’t get another chance.

She paused silently for a few moments, then turned back towards them, “You’re a shapeshifter, right? Does that mean you can fix your body when it gets hurt?”

“I… sort of?”

“Good,” a malign smirk washed over Adora’s face as she raised the sword up, then slammed the pointed end down to the floor straight through Double Trouble’s hand. They emitted an ear-splitting scream of pain, and their eyes glazed over as their body tried to distance itself from the messages of immense agony that their nerves were sending up from the wound. Another crescendo of anguished cry escaped them when Adora smartly pulled the sword back out, sending the shapeshifter’s blood flying up to stain her clothes, and the overwhelming pain started to dim their consciousness. They barely managed to keep themself awake long enough to hear Adora’s parting words, “If Catra is dead, I’ll be back for you.”

* * *

The Fright Zone was just as oppressive as Catra remembered it. She wasn’t sure quite what it was about the place that made you constantly feel as though someone were stood behind you, staring at your every move, even when you were alone. Maybe it was the lighting that left so much darkness around you, and you could never truly be certain whether a dark corner was just a dark corner, or a void that expanded into a shadowy realm filled with the horrifying creatures that the other cadets told ghost stories about. Or maybe it was the noise; if you grew up in the Fright Zone, you never knew true silence. Even in the dead of night, when only a few guards were awake, that all-pervasive hum was still constant, a sound you could hear but never focus on, that could either have been coming from right next to you or from miles away. Catra wasn’t sure if it had a source, if it was the rumble of some piece of machinery somewhere in the complex, or whether it was just in the imagination of every person who lived there. Both were equally likely.

Then there was the air, that industrial smell of metal and grease which infused every inch of the place. The atmosphere in the Fright Zone was just a little too heavy to be comfortable, yet not so much that it was uncomfortable, and the soldiers lived in a constant state of unease where they couldn’t quite relax. That was by design, Catra assumed, another little touch to keep them under control and prevent them from getting complacent in their duties. Having been away, even for just a couple of weeks, and used to truly fresh air, that closeness only seemed more intense now her brief spell of freedom had finally come to an end.

Hordak’s throne room was a strange sort of place. Neither private chamber nor public space, it existed in an odd state of flux between the two. Though it was massive in size, easily able to fit the majority of the Horde’s troops inside, it was rare that any of them were allowed in. Lord Hordak himself spent a large part of his time in his lab, leaving the room empty more often than not, yet to enter the throne room uninvited was to commit the crime of invading the warlord’s privacy. Sometimes, however, the soldiers were summoned en masse, and that usually meant something important was happening. Given that Hordak was not the sort of person to celebrate birthdays, promotions, or successes, every moment Catra and the others had spent in his throne room was to witness something awful. Having formed part of the audience on all previous occasions, this time Catra was to be the star of a horrifyingly unforgettable show.

“I am a man of my word,” Hordak addressed his troops with no small measure of smugness permeating his words, a triumphant tone that masked just how grateful he was that Catra had walked back through the door shortly before he gave up entirely. The search for the two fugitives had proved fruitless, save for a brief sighting in the village of Elberon the day they left, and diverting so many people to the manhunt was beginning to leave the frontline troops depleted. Of course, he had a plan for that eventuality as well; the story to the soldiers would have been that both the runaways had been located and killed by the squad who found them. But to have one of them present herself to him was a stroke of luck, allowing him to give her a swift, and very public, execution that would serve to reinforce his power. As for the other one, she would be found before long.

When the soldiers had filed in moments earlier, laying eyes on a handcuffed Catra stood staring at the floor in front of her, there were audible gasps and hushed chatter amongst them. That stopped the moment their leader had appeared into view from the darkness, the relative silence growing heavier with every second before he spoke, “Two weeks ago, I assured you that I would not rest until the person responsible for Shadow Weaver’s murder was in front of me to be punished. I vowed that what I would do to the culprit would act as a warning to each and every one of you not to cross me. I promised that the traitor would face my judgement one day, and that day is today.

“If anyone here believes that they would get away with such betrayal, I implore you to watch what I am about to do. Even fleeing from her crime did nothing to stop Catra from being brought to justice, because while you can run, the might of the Horde across Etheria means you can never hide. I will find you, just as I have found Catra. And now you will witness her punishment.”

A helmeted soldier stepped forward from the audience, presenting Hordak’s weapon to him with a meek, nervous bow. The warlord held it aloft for all to see, a modified stun baton that had almost graduated to mythical status amongst the younger cadets who had yet to see it. While the standard issue Horde baton was largely a defensive weapon to fend off attackers so that the tanks and larger guns could do greater damage, this was something Hordak himself had enhanced in his lab. The only visual clue that it was different was the larger hand grip, a result of the bigger battery that was needed to power it, but the difference in its capability was disturbingly greater. This was a formidable weapon, capable of firing out an energy pulse that could burn through several inches of metal with little effort. When fired at a living being, the result could only have been instant death.

Hordak’s arm stretched out towards her, the end of the weapon a foot from Catra’s face and ready to charge up the pulse to end her life. The act, however, was cut short by the sound of shocked gasping and murmuring from the corner of the room.

“Silence! How dare you…” his anger was short lived, being replaced with surprise. The crowd of soldiers parted to reveal the source of the disruption – Adora striding purposefully towards him, armed with a sword and a look of intense determination. Her gaze did not waver from his even for a moment, and to a lesser man, one who did not have several hundred trained soldiers under his command surrounding her, it would have been frightening.

“Let her go,” she snarled. It was not a suggestion, but a demand. No part of the way she spoke showed any willingness to accept refusal.

“Adora, no…” Catra’s voice was drained, almost begging. Adora couldn’t be sure if it were a longing to be saved or to be left, and the likelihood of the latter scared her, “I told you not to follow me, you need to stop playing the hero. Just leave me.”

She had no time to respond before Hordak gave a low, unsettling chuckle that sent a shiver down her spine and blossomed into a hearty, malicious laugh, “Well, well, well, it’s her partner in crime. It appears we will be witnessing two punishments today.”

“No,” Adora raised the blade and pointed it at the man as she flatly rejected his words. She held no fear for herself; even knowing that Hordak could kill her in seconds did nothing to abate the anger inside – anger at Hordak for what he was planning to do, anger at Double Trouble for the way they had treated Catra and anger at herself for not seeing what was really happening to her best friend. That last part was the hardest for her to handle. If Catra died here, after all of Adora’s mistakes – over-reacting to the kiss, spending more time trying to convince Catra not to trust Double Trouble than she did asking her how she felt, ignoring the little signs that the girl wasn’t doing well – then it would be her fault. Her only fear was failing Catra.

“Restrain her!” Hordak barked his order. Several soldiers rushed forward to try and apprehend Adora but losing after coming so far was not an option she wanted to entertain. She reeled the sword around behind her and prepared to fight. Metal slammed into armour, commencing the hardest battle of her life. With her focus heightened, soldier after soldier was met with forceful punches, slashes of her weapon, vigorous kicks that sent bodies flying into other bodies. The moment an opponent appeared in her periphery, Adora was ready, instantly adjusting her strategy to react to them.

Even as she fought, however, she could not forget that Catra was the most pressing issue. The room rapidly descended to chaos around her, but Adora never once lost sight of where her best friend stood, still looking crushed under the burden of her own regrets. She battled through the mass of soldiers trying to hold her back, shaking her arms free from their grip over and over, lashing out with the sword to clear her path. There was an instant of distraction, a fighter who had a strong grip around the wrist in which she held her weapon, that made her look away for the second it took to bring her other hand around to punch them away. It was only a moment that her focus moved from saving Catra, but in that time, despite the loud commotion that filled the room, the high-pitched whine of a weapon charging up engulfed her entire hearing. As it reached its crescendo, Adora felt a sense of dread she’d never known.

“Catra!” she cried, desperately, as her friend became the only thing in the room that she paid attention to. She tore free of the soldiers around her, running towards where Hordak stood, the end of his weapon glowing with bright green energy, “No!”

Adora flew towards Hordak as he fired. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she collided with him, watching the pulse become free of the firearm and tracing a direct path through the air towards the ceiling. The energy beam struck flared up to an almost unbearable brightness as it hit the metal of a girder than ran the length of the room. Realising how close Catra had come to death, how real that probability was, made something stir inside Adora. It wasn’t quite anger, nor fear – it was something more powerful than both. As it grew, so her awareness of the noise around her returned, vanquishing the silence with tumultuous uproar; but the shouts of the soldiers could not have hoped to rise above the sound that came from Adora’s mouth. It was guttural roar, a thunder of unrestrained fury that signified her passing the point of no-return, where untapped reserves of strength and energy became liberated. The sword she held turned from weapon to an extension of her body, tearing at the troops around her as easily and effortlessly as a swipe of her own hand while Adora homed in on Lord Hordak.

Getting ever nearer to him, she was welcomed by a jerk of the leader’s arm that aimed his weapon at her face. There was barely time for her to duck and drag Catra out of the trajectory as Hordak fired a sudden, weak pulse of energy towards her, the miss clearly angering him further.

“Kill them!” the business end of his firearm built up a green glow. This time, Hordak would not waste time on a quick, ineffectual shot, he would charge it up to its full power in order to destroy them. Seeing few other options, Adora grabbed hold of Catra’s hand and turned away, striking out with the sword at any Horde soldiers who dared try to obstruct her. She needed to get her out of here, no matter how much her anger wanted her to confront Hordak for what he had tried to do. Trying to fight, with sword against what was probably the most powerful handheld weapon on the planet, would be reckless and certain death. She couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , let this all be in vain. She had to keep the both of them alive, and that meant running once again.

Another roar came from Hordak behind her, indicating that he was firing. Thinking rapidly, Adora dropped down, dragging Catra behind her and sliding feet first along the floor while she witnessed the bolt of energy flying overhead, narrowly missing an unlucky cadet and obliterating the door to the room. She felt her speed slowing and jumped back to her feet in a show of impressive dexterity that helped her evade another couple of the gathered troops. The sound of Hordak’s weapon charging up for another shot was scarcely loud enough to hear above the commotion, but Adora used its drone as motivation to speed up, escaping the room just as he fired.

The relative freedom of the corridor was soon filled with chasing soldiers, but Adora was concentrating only on what lay ahead of her. Her pursuers were unprepared, not having expected to need to arm themselves to watch Catra’s execution, and she had put enough distance between them to be out of their reach. A couple of unsuspecting cadets emerged from side rooms, their curiosity captured by the unusual sounds, but soon jumped back in the face of an enraged young woman armed with a sword. The maze-like layout of the Fright Zone proved beneficial to Adora, taking corner after corner to break the line of sight, and it wasn’t long before the dozens of soldiers chasing them initially had dwindled to a handful of the fastest runners. She rounded another corner, stretching her blade out to attack the white shirt that stood in her way should they not move.

“Adora, it’s me!” the cadet grabbed her shoulder, pulling both young women into an open equipment closet and slamming the door shut behind the three of them.

Adora halted her arm from striking, “Lonnie?”

“Why the hell did you come back?” her voice was a whisper, a necessity to keep the three of them hidden, but it still conveyed a strong current of irritation.

“I needed to save Catra, I had to…”

Images of what could have been invaded her conscious, repeating over and over the moment where Adora had nearly failed. If she had moved a fraction of a second later, if she had missed… The tears came without warning, and she collapsed forward into Lonnie’s shoulder, weeping quietly into the fabric of her shirt.

“No-one deserves what he was going to do to her,” she tried to comfort Adora, knowing how, despite usually being an insufferable ass, Catra was special to her, “But you must have known it was going to happen sooner or later. The Horde has been looking for her for weeks.”

Adora shook her head, raising herself back upright, “They weren’t. She… Catra’s not well, she’s been hearing all these voices and seeing stuff, and then the person we stayed with was fucking with her mind. She left in the middle of the night to come back here to die, and I… Shit, Lonnie, I need to go kill him. Hordak needs to pay for what he tried to do.”

“No, Adora, you both have to get out of here.”

“And just let him get away with attempting to kill her?!”

“I’m not saying that,” Lonnie placed a hand on Adora’s shoulder, which had a slight calming effect, “Now is not the time. If you walk back in there now, both of you are going to die. _Everyone_ is looking for you, and by now they’re gonna be getting the weapons out, so I’ll help you get out of here, but you need to run. Again.”

Adora pressed her hand into her face. Every enraged part of her wanted to get swift revenge, to stroll confidently up to Lord Hordak and run her sword through his body, but she knew Lonnie was right. Even the chances of her and Catra being able to sneak out of the Fright Zone unseen were slim, so heading back into the heart of the complex would be a suicide mission. She took a couple of deep breaths to suppress the urge to put herself back in danger and nodded, “Okay.”

“Here, put these on,” Lonnie scoured the shelving in the cupboard and picked off a couple of helmets that would fit Catra and Adora. It was not the most fool-proof disguise – Adora’s blood- and sweat-stained shirt made her stand out from the rest of the soldiers in their pristine clothes, but in the heat of a chase, a helmet would mask their appearances just enough. Opening the door slightly, Lonnie peeked out to check for anyone in the corridor, exiting the room and beckoning the other girls out when she saw that the coast was clear.

“I’m bringing the sword,” Adora asserted. Despite how easily it would give her away, she wouldn’t allow herself to be unarmed, and she appeared to have an innate ability to handle a sword. The Horde had never trained her to use one but attacking with the blade felt like muscle memory for Adora.

Lonnie scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Fine. Whatever. Now let’s go!”

The three young women set off sprinting down the corridor, and Adora was unable to stop herself remembering the last time she did this, when she and Catra first escaped the Fright Zone. It was the same corridor, the same background clamour of soldiers chasing, the same way she used the trick of thumping the skiff bay’s entry keypad to open the door. The closest of the vessels was even parked in the exact same spot as the one she had taken before. She had the same feeling of tentative relief when she felt the temperature drop as she reached the outside, the same force throwing her back as the skiff accelerated as fast as she could, the same sensation of the wind buffeting her body.

“We’re going to be alright, Catra, I promise.”

She was met with the same silence that Catra had exhibited since she had arrived. The silence of a person who had completely given up on life, who no longer felt any need to try and react to the world in the hope that maybe, if she were lucky, something would kill her. If she acted like she didn’t exist, then the universe might just make it come true. Adora’s heart tore apart with sympathy for her friend; she wished that she could make it all better for Catra, that she could snap her fingers and transform the world into one she wanted to live in. But even though that was an impossible dream, Catra was here. She was alive. And no matter how insurmountable the effort required, no matter how immeasurably vast the task of bringing back the fun, incredible girl she knew would be, Adora would not give up.

She looked back to see several other skiffs chasing, their pilots having no qualms about firing upon the people they had been told were traitors to the Horde. A torrent of laser shots whistled past either side of them, and she began to swerve to try and evade the fire. Head jerking between looking where she was going and checking her pursuers, Adora kept her speed up to press on towards freedom. The closest skiff behind her fired once again, and she wrenched the rudder in a vain attempt to dodge, both of them falling to the deck and losing the sword off the side as the engine suffered a direct hit. A cacophony of beeps and alarms came from the vessel as it careered out of control. Adora battled with the rudder but was unable to steady her course in time to avoid the trees on the edge of the Whispering Woods. The front of the skiff hit a tree at an angle, and they were thrown free of the vessel in different directions, Adora sailing through the air until she landed hard on the ground, the force of the impact making her black out.

* * *

_“Hey, Adora.”_

_Adora slowly opened her eyes, taking a few moments to adjust to the harsh blue light of her surroundings. The room she was in was unknown to her, although strangely familiar, with huge, jagged crystals encircling the centre where she was laid. She had no idea where she was, nor how she got here; all she could remember was waking up._

_“Catra?”_

_She felt a hand lightly stroke her shoulder, “I’m here, Adora.”_

_“Where am I?”_

_“Where you need to be. With me.”_

_Adora sat upright, the sudden change in position making her light-headed and almost resulting in her falling towards the side, “Sorry, I’m… what happened to me?”_

_“You’re fine, Adora,” Catra smiled, “You’ve been sleeping so long it’s not surprising that you’re a bit off-balance.”_

**_Balance. Balance. Balance. Balance. You must balance the planet. You must balance Etheria, Adora._ **

_A voice reverberated in Adora’s head, and she tried to shake it out, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve just been sleeping for… wait, how long have I been sleeping for?”_

_“Long enough. I, uh, I don’t actually know… I just found you in the forest passed out, so I brought you here.”_

_“You saved me?”_

_The feline laughed, “I wouldn’t quite say that, but sure, I saved you. About time I was the one of us who played hero.”_

**_Hero. Hero. Hero. Hero. Etheria must seek a Hero. You are Etheria’s Hero, Adora._ **

_“What is going on?” the amnesia, the unusual location, the words that she kept hearing… something was wrong, and Adora was growing desperate to make sense of it. She gripped onto her friends arm, “Catra, what is going on?!”_

_“Calm down, Adora. I’m here, you don’t need to worry. I’m looking out for you.”_

_Her words created the tiniest spark in Adora’s mind that set off a chain reaction. ‘Looking out for you’ – the letter, the bed she found it on, the house she was in, Double Trouble, running, the Fright Zone, Hordak, the shot that almost hit, Catra’s defeated silence. Much as she wanted to believe it, there was no way that Catra would suddenly turn from the shell of a person on the skiff into this confident, almost happy young woman._

_“This doesn’t feel right,” Adora stared at whatever was manifesting as her best friend, and her determination built. She stood up, darting around in a circle to look for the real reason she was here, “Whoever you are, show yourself! I am not afraid to fight!”_

**Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight, Adora. Will you fight, Adora? Will you fight for the Honor of Grayskull?**

_“Adora!” Catra reached out to touch her, but she brushed it off, “There’s nothing wrong, please just calm down.”_

_“No! I need to get out of here!” she ran to the corners of the room, looking for an exit amidst the darkness, pressing on walls in case they held a hidden door and even stomping on the ground in an attempt to find any way out, “Let me leave!”_

_Scouring every inch of the place she was enclosed within, Adora still came up short in her search for an exit. She made her way back towards the centre where she had first woken up, expecting to see that approximation of her friend, but it had gone. There was nothing left, except for a sword giving off an intense blue glow, being held in place by a mess of tree roots. The sword was significantly more impressive than the one she had taken from Double Trouble – a mesmerising blue stone was held within a pristine golden hilt with extravagantly detailed wings, from which a blade etched with symbols extended. Adora had never seen anything like it, nor had she come across the style of writing along the blade before, yet she could read it._

_“She… Ra…?”_

* * *

A blinding light stole Adora’s vision for several moments before dying down to a low glimmer emanating from the sword that sat in the clearing where she lay. The strange room she had been in was no longer there; she had returned to the darkness of the Whispering Woods, Catra laid flat alongside her. She scrabbled across the twigs and fallen leaves on the ground, holding her breath as she gently shook her friend, praying that she would awaken, that they had not come so far only to have her story ended here.

_Oh my friend, you look so cold  
Frozen and fallen, please take my coat  
and warm your heart until it burns  
I know that things can’t get much worse_

Adora’s relief was etched across her face when Catra’s eyes slowly opened, and she wrapped the still-disoriented girl in the tightest hug she could manage. It was a hug that communicated protection, that now they were together, they would never make the same mistake of letting anything or anyone come between them. Freeing an arm from the embrace, Catra extended it weakly to gesture at the source of the light that they could see each other by, and as Adora’s gaze fell upon the sword, she was overcome by the impulse to touch it.

She took hold of Catra’s hand, helping her to her feet and they walked unsteadily together the few feet to the sword. Adora hesitated as she reached out, overcome with the fear that this sword, humming with otherworldly energy, could become a new wedge between them – could wreck the tentative peace in which they existed. She looked to Catra for confirmation, and as their eyes met, there was something behind her friend’s that gave her confidence. A spark, a tiny ember, the faint glow of a single flame that burned deep inside. It wasn’t anything tangible, there was no change to her expression, no difference in the way she stood or the pattern of her breathing, but Adora felt the tiniest sensation of hope coming from Catra’s heart.

_Oh my friend, you seem so pale  
The highest point, the dove tail  
The simple shapes and colours form against the trees  
It’s the sweetest tonic for the disease_

She looked down at their intertwined hands, raising them up together to hover over the sword. They could both feel a power radiating from it, a buzz of electricity that seemed greater than anything on the planet could produce, yet painless and welcoming. Adora glanced towards Catra with a nod, receiving one in return as an agreement to continue, then lowered their hands together onto the hilt of the blade.

_The screaming stars relight our way_

When Adora made contact, it was as though her entire life was expanding. Visions danced through her mind like a flipbook – images of runestones, of planets and stars, of princesses, of a woman with long hair lifting the sword aloft. Another woman, alien-looking, spoke her name, inviting her to become the hero that Etheria needed. Adora’s awareness of the world around her seemed magnified, the true nature of Etheria like a thought she knew she had but couldn’t quite recall. And then the rapid carousel of images slowed to reveal Catra, welcome memories of her best friend taking form in the happy, smiling girl she remembered fondly. A warm, bittersweet peace enveloped her as Catra’s image spoke the words that reignited her determination: Be my hero, Adora.

_The screaming stars relight our way_

She took hold of the sword in one hand, raising it above her head with renewed purpose, while the other grasped tightly around the hand of her best friend. In that moment, Adora knew she had to fight. Fight for herself, fight for Catra, fight for Etheria. Fight…

“For the honor of Grayskull.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic! It's one that has really challenged me, and I've loved writing every single part (for some reason, it's the dark stuff that I feel like I'm better at writing).
> 
> (Song used in the final scene is November 5th by My Life Story)

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @alice_hancock1  
> Tumblr: lisshstuff


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